A Cold Green
by LooseCable01
Summary: Harry's brother is falsely accepted as the Boy Who Lived. Will Harry's neglect at the hands of his family and classmates drive him to Voldemort's side? When the chance of revenge is offered will he take it? AU, no slash as yet, some OOC.
1. Innocence

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters._

_Setting: This initial chapter is set within the first few weeks of Harry's first year where he has been sorted into Slytherin. It follows the common AU story of Harry having an older brother who falsely wins the title of The Boy Who Lived and consequently gains all the attention and adoration of his parents. There is the suggestion of abuse at the hands of his OOC parents but nothing extreme. Both parents are teachers at Hogwarts, Sirius is alive and as usual Remus is the only one who really cares about Harry. Also, as Harry is from the well known Gryffindor family he doesn't have many fans in Slytherin – Snape included._

'Normal Speech'

'_Snake Speech'_

_Enjoy!_

**oooooooooo**

**A Cold Green**

Innocence

Harry brushed a hesitant hand over his mouth, gazing sadly at the blood shining on his fingers. Another split lip. He sat forlornly in the corner of the balcony, no longer feeling the cold of the stone against his back or the sting of his wounds. The icy evening wind whistled round the tower, whipping his thick black hair in front of his eyes. But he was glad of it. The darkness hid the few slow tears that trickled down his face.

He scowled darkly at himself and wiped them away, rubbing his arms for warmth against the winter winds as he stared at the heavy stone banister before him.

"I hate them." He muttered to himself, not even able to hear his own mutinous voice over the violent wind.

"I hate them!" He screamed in a challenge to the gods, his voice whipped away with a swirling roar.

His energy dissipated for the moment, he sat back with a heavy sigh.

The only thing worse than being the black sheep of the Potter family was being a Potter in the house of Slytherin. Harry's scowl darkened at the thought - they all hated him. No matter what he did, or where he was. At least his classmates couldn't yet throw a punch as hard as his disappointed father.

He wrapped his too-large cloak around himself as it started to rain. Lost in his thoughts it must have been quite late by the time he picked himself cautiously up from the ground and wandered silently back indoors. Drifting through the deserted corridors he walked with a practised gentle step to prevent making a noise.

Standing mutely in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms Harry played out his choices in his mind. He could stay and guess the password until he got the right one, or he could find an empty room to spend the night in.

"Are you ever going to give me the password?" The man in the portrait snapped impatiently.

Harry gazed slowly upwards at the weathered face looking darkly down at him.

"I- don't know." He replied without emotion, his voice cracking slightly with use at such a late hour of the night.

If he returned to the common room there was no guarantee he'd make it to his bed without being noticed by the older Slytherin's he knew would still be awake. Perhaps it would just be easier to find somewhere else to sleep.

"_Isss he mentally sound?"_

Harry scowled, his eyes snapping back to meet those of the man in the portrait.

"What did you say?" He asked quietly, green eyes glittering in the darkness.

The large man's eyes narrowed.

"I didn't say anything." He replied suspiciously, regarding Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"_You sssee, he is hearing voices."_

"_I am not hearing voices! I'm hearing _you _and I don't appreciate your comments!" _Harry growled back.

The man in the portrait crossed his arms and the hint of a smile passed his face.

"I didn't say anything."

"You did!" Harry cried out, trying to keep his voice down while his frustration bubbled underneath the surface. He was tired of people stepping on him today.

"Perhaps you are mistaking my friend's voice as mine." The man continued calmly.

But there was no-one else in the portrait, Harry thought to himself with a frown. He was suddenly very tired and just didn't want to argue any more.

He rubbed a hand across his face, appearing much older than the twelve years that he was.

"Introduce me…" 

There was a pause during which Harry couldn't be bothered to look up. The man in the portrait was obviously insane.

"_Very well, if I must... Boy, this is my friend – Luthas."_

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Look, I'm tired and I-"

He stopped as his brilliant green eyes met a pair of brilliant yellow ones.

"What iss your name, boy?" 

"_You're a… snake." _Harry said eyes wide in realisation.

"_He's a clever one." _The bearded man commented with a smirk.

"_But he does not answer my questions. He is rude." _The snake hissed, glittering black scales glinting as it slid up the large man's arm.

"_But I- no. How is this possible?" _Harry stammered in confusion. He had read his history books. He knew that it was extremely uncommon to be able to talk to serpents.

"_Your thoughts mirror my own." _The man replied slowly, eyes shrewd as he studied Harry's bruised face and wet robes.

"_I'm not of Slytherin descent."_ Harry murmured to himself, "_The only living relative of Lord Slytherin was Voldemort…"_

The snake's clever yellow eyes met those of his bearded master before turning back to Harry's slight form before them.

"_What isss your name, boy?" _Luthas asked once more.

"_I- My name is Harry. Harry Potter." _

There was a stillness as the snake flicked its tail.

"_Brother to the famous Potter boy?" _The bearded man finally asked.

Harry's expression darkened momentarily. It seemed this was how he was forever to be known. Brother of Benjamin Potter. Relative of The Boy Who Lived.

"_Yes."_ He sighed.

Again a look passed between the two painted figures.

"_Interesting… very interesting." _Luthas hissed quietly.

Harry couldn't bear the scrutinising eyes anymore and made his excuses to leave, deciding that an evening on the floor of some empty classroom would not be bad at all.

"_I beg your pardon, sir, but I must leave."_

"_You don't want to enter the common room?"_ The man seemed amused.

"_I have to-"_

"POTTER!"

Harry winced and took a step back into the shadows hoping that the rapidly approaching figure would pass.

He was not in luck.

"Potter, what do you think you're doing? It's well past curfew."

Harry dragged his eyes upwards to meet those of the tall potion master. His eyes were glaring and impatient – the black robes and hair merging into the blackness of the corridor, making his eyes the one focal point that Harry could focus on.

Unfortunately.

"Well?" He snapped.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't find an answer to suit and closed it again.

"Just as I thought. Well, don't expect your dear parents to get you out of this one," Snape threatened quietly, "Your brother has already been in trouble this week and got away with one nights detention. You, _boy_, will not be so lucky."

Harry swallowed painfully but forced himself not to drop his head.

"Sorry, sir." He whispered.

"You will be." Snape sneered, grabbing Harry by the upper right arm and guiding him rather forcefully to face the common room portrait once more.

"I don't care what your father may have suggested as acceptable behaviour in this house," He hissed, depositing Harry where he had just been only two minutes beforehand, "And I'll warn you again – any points you deliberately get deducted from Slytherin, I will personally see to it that you pay for them, understand?"

Harry slid a blank expression on his face, not daring to argue with the seething man next to him. Something had obviously set him off into a bad mood tonight and Harry didn't want to act as the catalyst to any further anger.

"Yes, sir." He replied smoothly.

Snape glared at him, obviously having expected a different reaction. Harry wouldn't give him the pleasure of retaliation and met his gaze as evenly as he could.

"Perhaps you are the more sensible of the two after all." Snape finally replied quietly, eyes narrowed.

"I'm not like my brother." Harry replied equally as quietly, eyes moving to study the floor.

"We'll see." Snape sneered, "I want to see you in my office tomorrow morning at six."

Harry frowned and looked up in surprise. Snape obviously wanted to enforce his punishment before Harry got the chance to go to his parents. As if they would have helped him anyway - 'It's for your own good', 'Why can't you be as well behaved as your brother', 'Don't be stupid, boy. If you're enough of an idiot to get caught then you deserve any punishment Snivellus gives you'.

"Yes, sir." Came Harry's tired reply.

It must have been at least one in the morning. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. Again.

"Good, now get back to your room. I don't care if the castle is on fire, you're not to leave your chambers again tonight." Snape snapped.

Harry nodded numbly, and turned back to the man in the portrait. His snake had disappeared once more and he stood imposingly, a small smirk on his face.

"So now you _do _want to enter." He said in amusement.

"Not really." Harry muttered under his breath.

"Potter." Came Snape's dangerous voice behind him.

"I would like it more than anything else in the world." Harry replied in false politeness.

"Make sure he doesn't come back out." Snape growled to the bearded man as the portrait opened wide for Harry to enter.

"Goodnight." Harry murmured to no-one in particular as he trudged into the dark passageway.

As the portrait swung shut Harry considered the reasons Snape must have had for ignoring the obvious bruising on his face. Probably thinks I deserved it, Harry sighed. At least he could use his potion/cream on them tomorrow. He needed the practise from some of his more advanced first aid potions, and that was one thing the house of Slytherin afforded him in abundance.

"Alright, Potter."

Harry fought down the familiar twisting in his chest as he turned to face the three large figures moving from their seated positions by the fire.

"A bit late for you to be out isn't it?" The boy Harry now recognised as a sixth year called Morgan asked threateningly.

"Professor Snape wouldn't like that, would he boys?" Another laughed, blocking Harry's exit route to the bedrooms, "We'd better reinforce some of those Slytherin house rules into your little Gryffindor head, hadn't we?"

Harry rubbed one hand against the other nervously. He knew what was coming. It was inescapable, just as the fight earlier this evening had been. He just had to make sure he regained consciousness by six o'clock tomorrow morning.

He just hoped he'd made enough bruise lotion.

**oooooooooo**

_Hope you enjoyed. As I said, this is just to set the scene. Will hopefully move faster after this. Feel free to review. Next chapter up soon.x_


	2. Hidden

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters._

_Setting: This initial chapter is set within the first few weeks of Harry's first year where he has been sorted into Slytherin. It follows the common AU story of Harry having an older brother who falsely wins the title of The Boy Who Lived and consequently gains all the attention and adoration of his parents. There is the suggestion of abuse at the hands of his OOC parents but nothing extreme. Both parents are teachers at Hogwarts, Sirius is alive and as usual Remus is the only one who really cares about Harry. Also, as Harry is from the well known Gryffindor family he doesn't have many fans in Slytherin – Snape included._

_Enjoy!_

**oooooooooo**

**A Cold Green**

Hidden

"Well, Harry, I don't have all day. Did you even do the assignment?"

Harry felt his face redden at his mother- at Professor Potter's tone. He didn't know what would be more embarrassing an answer; the fact that he had completed the essay but his brother and friends had decided it would be funny to rip it up, or just to lie and say that once again, he hadn't done it and had nothing to hand in.

He knew which one she would believe.

"I… didn't do it." He lied.

Mrs Potter pursed her lips in a disappointed expression. One that Harry had come to recognise very well over the years. One usually reserved for him.

"Ten points from Slytherin for your hopeless attitude towards homework. You had better have it completed for me tomorrow, or you'll have detention again." She spoke in a waspish tone, familiar green eyes burning into his before striding back to the board.

Harry sighed feeling disappointed in himself. His grades were nothing like as good as his brother's even though he knew he was smarter in almost every way. Somehow he had a feeling it was to do with Benjamin's status as the hero of the wizarding world.

"Mr Potter, are you paying attention?"

"Yes Professor."

His time at Hogwarts had become routine. Some of the Slytherins had realised it was in their best interests to keep Harry within an arms reach as he was able to help with most types of homework. He was clever, and they knew it. But most students still treated him with distain. According to Benjamin, Harry had always been weird, and their father would even have suspected him to have dabbled in the Dark Arts if they didn't all know he wasn't smart enough for it.

So mostly Harry's time was spent between detentions and hiding from those who wanted to cause him physical pain. His father had taken up the tack of pretending he didn't exist while Snape took every available opportunity to employ his revenge for whatever discomfort his father or brother had caused most recently.

Things were pretty bad. But they could have been worse. Some of the portraits spoke to him civilly now. And at least his varying detentions had allowed him to discover several areas of the castle he probably wouldn't have found otherwise. One such detention had found him weeding some of the poisonous plants on the outskirts of the forbidden forest. He'd discovered a crop of useful herbs that he quickly incorporated into his healing balms.

Another such detention, perhaps the worst, was the one Snape had given him for being out of bed, out of hours. It had resulted in the best discovery yet.

"Mr _Potter._ Pay attention!"

"Sorry Professor."

His hand now moved to the delicate necklace that sat around his neck. It offered him some warmth and comfort even though he could sense its unfamiliar power.

oooooooooooo

"You're late, Mr Potter." Snape said distastefully, looking down at the tired boy in his doorway.

"Sorry sir." Harry replied quietly.

It was ten past six in the morning and Harry had awoken on his bedcovers completely clothed and very much in pain only fifteen minutes ago. He'd hurriedly washed up and covered himself in healing balm, allowing himself a satisfied smile as the bruises on his face melted into his normal pale complexion. After this it had been a limped dash to the potion master's classroom.

"Get in here then." The tall man snapped, holding the door open for him, before slamming it shut.

Harry winced, the loudness hurting his already pulsing headache.

"As I told you last night, I'm not going to tolerate any more of your family's idiocy. You're to scrub the flagstones of the dungeons all day until they are spotless."

Harry frowned.

"The whole dungeon?"

"All of it." Snape smirked, obviously pleased of the punishment he had thought up.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He was tired and sore and just wanted to go to bed.

An old bucket and brush were thrust into his hands with more force than necessary.

"The sooner you start, the sooner you'll finish." Snape said, directing him to the doorway.

He would never finish, Harry thought dispassionately. He would die with a scrubbing brush in his hand, bent over the cold flagstones of the dank dungeon floors in a cold corner where nobody would find him.

"Give me your wand." Snape ordered, "You can have it back when you're finished."

Harry complied without much of a fight. He didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"And if you so much as move one room too far away I will know." Snape informed him darkly before slamming the heavy oak door once more.

The whole dungeon?

That would take weeks, never mind days.

After the first three hours Harry's hands were starting to ache and his back was stiff from crouching. He had made it through four rooms and down the East wing corridor but there was just so much to do. He could hear people moving around happily upstairs and the excited chattering from outside where he knew it was a sunny day.

With a heartfelt sigh he sat back and stretched, watching the dust drift slowly through the air before him. A voice broke his thoughts.

"Oy, mop head."

His bad mood was about to get worse.

"Benjamin." He replied softly.

His third year brother appeared loudly up ahead, his strong frame dwarfing that of Harry's.

"What are you doing?" He said in disgust, his perfect face wrinkling in distaste, "Never mind, I was wondering where you were."

The older boy looked down at him impatiently. His red hair shorn short against his head, with his brown eyes that melted the hearts most girls, staring at the bucket of water next to Harry.

Harry stood carefully, barely coming up to his brother's chin.

"What did you want?" Harry asked suspiciously, green eyes narrowing.

"Do I need an excuse to visit my dear baby brother?" Came the quick reply and brilliant smile.

"Let me guess," Harry sighed, "You were bored and refused to do your homework with your friends so came to annoy me to pass the time."

"Exactly." Ben laughed, heartily.

Even his laugh was perfect. It was no wonder everyone adored him. They just never saw the unpleasant side of him.

His brother's smile changed to one of mischief and trouble.

"Dad heard you got a detention from Snape. Said you were tarnishing the good family name, as usual. I just wanted to see you for myself."

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His dad wouldn't be happy at all. He was too lost in this train of thought to notice his brother pulling out his wand.

"Escano!"

The spoken jinx was too sudden for Harry to react and before he knew it, his feet had been pulled from under him and he landed painfully on his back, the damp stones wetting his robes.

"Too slow, brat." Ben laughed, throwing his full weight down on top of his brother and wrestling with him over with a twisted arm behind his back.

Harry cried out in frustration and fought against his brother's strong, Quidditch-playing frame, but was unable to retaliate. He never could.

"You shouldn't cause any more trouble, mop boy." Ben hissed out, clearly enjoying himself as he twisted Harry's arm some more, "Cause dad doesn't like it… and you know what, neither do I."

Face pressed against the cold stone floor Harry didn't realise from the sound what his brother intended to do before it was too late and the bucket of old water was above his head.

"Ben no! Don't, please!" Harry pleaded, giving a final struggle.

His brother just flashed that smile and gave him a wink before flicking his wand and emptying the contents of the bucket all over Harry.

The shock of the cold dirty water hit Harry before the taste and he spluttered hopelessly, not realising he had been released.

"Get scrubbing, kiddo." Ben said in his charmingly smooth voice, once more standing to leave.

Harry moved his dripping hair out of his eyes and could only shout after his brother's retreating figure,

"I hate you!"

His only response was that annoyingly perfect laugh as it disappeared up the stairs.

Harry sniffed, fighting back the emotions that swirled in his sleep-deprived body. He wouldn't let himself cry. His brother wasn't worth that.

Instead he righted the bucket and looked for where the brush had been swept across the floor to. He spotted it in a dimly lit corner underneath an ugly old tapestry. It was no wonder hardly anyone came down here, it was depressing.

Crawling to the spot, Harry's shivering hand removed the brush from its resting place and slid it back across the floor to the bucket.

Happening to glance at the wall, he spotted a tiny carving in the rock, shining slightly in the bad lighting. The brick in question was situated on the bottom layer where the wall met the floor. Harry squinted carefully at the carving and realised it what it was – a snake.

Shifting into a better position and checking that nobody was coming, he got up close to the brick and attempted to lever it out of place. It wouldn't budge. Perhaps it was the picture of the snake, or maybe just because it felt more satisfying to swear in Parselmouth, Harry found himself muttering to the brick in snake language.

_"…bloody thing, just move! Open up you little-"_

The brick suddenly shifted slightly. Heartened, Harry tugged some more and finally removed the brick from it's home. There was nothing behind it. Green eyes frowned and Harry slid his hand into the gap to search the dark area. His fingers found the edges of the strangely small slab beneath his knees. Ignoring the slight pain it caused his fingernails, Harry proceeded to lever up the flagstone next. It was exciting – like a treasure hunt, but there was very little space within the brick-hole with which to work.

With a heavy grating noise of stone on stone the slab slid upwards and revealed to Harry what looked like a very small box.

He hesitated. He wasn't stupid. He knew that whatever was in the box had been hidden for a reason, but he was tired and cold and feeling rather reckless after his brother's attack. Harry pulled the small box out and stared at it.

What could it hurt?

He flicked open the latch and pulled the little box open with a creak. Again, he checked the corridor before pulling the box into his lap and studying the contents eagerly.

It was a chain. A delicate necklace glinted at him from the shadows. The chain was silver with a small pendant attached. Carefully taking it out, Harry felt a tingle of power run through his hand. It unnerved him, but there was something too attractive about the necklace to take his eyes off it.

He held the pendant in front of his face to see the shape more clearly. It was a tiny silver droplet that looked extremely fluid. Shrugging to himself Harry placed the necklace over his head and grinned at the feeling of comfort it gave him. It sat perfectly around his neck sending warm energy through his tensed shoulders and down his sore back.

A faint blue light glowed around the droplet and Harry stared in alarm as it changed shape. But that was all it did. It merely changed into what looked like a lightning bolt. Similar to his scar, Harry thought, unconsciously rubbing his forehead.

Strange. Would it be unwise to keep it?

Why shouldn't he? He had found it after all.

Harry's palm closed around the little pendant and he smiled for the first time that week.

oooooooooooo

"That's it Harry, detention. If you won't do the work in my class, then you'll have to do it in your own time." Snapped a familiar voice.

Harry looked up, his hand moving quickly away from the necklace.

"Sorry Professor." He muttered.

The rest of the class bustled past him, anxious to get outside as the bell went. Harry kept his eyes downwards, not wanting to see the look on his mother's face. He drifted out of the room silently.

oooooooooooo

_Another chapter down. Hope it's still making sense. Thanks to all the reviews so far! x_


	3. Confrontations

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters._

_Setting: This initial chapter is set within the first few weeks of Harry's first year where he has been sorted into Slytherin. It follows the common AU story of Harry having an older brother who falsely wins the title of The Boy Who Lived and consequently gains all the attention and adoration of his parents. There is the suggestion of abuse at the hands of his OOC parents but nothing extreme. Both parents are teachers at Hogwarts, Sirius is alive and as usual Remus is the only one who really cares about Harry. Also, as Harry is from the well known Gryffindor family he doesn't have many fans in Slytherin – Snape included._

_Enjoy!_

**oooooooooo**

**A Cold Green**

Confrontations

It would be the Christmas holidays soon. Harry sat on the cold stone steps at the front of the castle in his big scarf, eating a thick sandwich. His breath rose before him in little puffs and he stretched his toes inside his boots feeling quite content.

He could now choose to stay in the castle away from his family for Christmas and avoid the harassment of the other students while they also left for home. Things had gotten better since the start of term however and it seemed the novelty of his situation had worn off slightly. His housemates now spent less time 'teaching him respect', instead deciding that they needed to use the time on classwork.

Harry was quite happy with that.

A roar broke the tranquillity of the snow-laden landscape, and Harry half-turned with a frown to the main doors of the castle where the voice had come from.

The voices were getting louder, and in the pit of his stomach Harry felt extremely uneasy.

"Where is he?!" The voice yelled angrily, "I'll skin him alive!"

It was his father. Shit. What had he done now?

Harry stood slowly as the dark-faced form of his father stormed down the steps towards him.

"What were you thinking? You little idiot! Still trying to cause trouble!! And using your brother to hide behind!"

Harry winced. His father was obviously furious. Snape stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face expressionless. His brother stood behind his father also, face struggling to hide a grin.

"What-?" Harry managed to say before he was grabbed by the scruff of his robes and pulled up the stairs rather forcibly.

"This is the last straw, I don't care what you say! I am sick and tired of you and your disrespect for everyone!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Harry protested, struggling against his father's grip.

"I think you do. And if you lie to me again, brat, you'll be in extreme trouble!"

Harry's face reddened as his father dragged him inside, ranting at him the whole time. There was obvious staring and pointing being directed their way as his father hauled him through the corridors and into his office, shutting the door with a slam.

It wasn't enough for his family to know that his father hated him – the whole school had to know now too.

"I can't believe you would be stupid enough to- I can't even comprehend what you were thinking-"

James looked genuinely flustered as he surveyed his younger son. It was the same every time - Harry could cope with the disappointment and the anger, it was just the fact that his parents were always so ready to believe that he was guilty that hurt him the most. Why could they never allow him the benefit of the doubt?

"Dad, I haven't done anyth-"

"Oh shut up Harry! I know you did it! I don't know why… but there's no use protesting! I have the proof right here!"

What was he talking about? Harry raked his brains frantically to think of something he might have done wrong by accident but came up with nothing.

Harry frowned in confusion as his father threw a little bag of herbs on to the desk.

"But those are-"

"Illegal, yes, don't act so damn surprised!" James roared, slamming his hand on the desk.

Harry jumped at the sudden noise, eyeing his father warily. He hadn't seen him this angry for quite a while… Where had those herbs come from? He certainly hadn't used them.

"I've never seen them before in my life." Harry said quietly.

"That's not your brother's story."

"Well maybe my brother was lying!" Harry said angrily.

Why did they always believe Benjamin over him!

"How dare you. How dare you blame your brother!" James shouted, shoving a desk out of his way loudly.

Harry scowled darkly at him, trying to burn a hole in his stupid face in a manner similar to Snape. His father always took Ben's word first. Always. And Ben always blamed him because he knew he could. Every word out of his golden mouth was accepted as the gospel truth. It wasn't fair.

The staring match was broken as the door opened and his mother entered the room with Snape.

"James, what has he done now?" His mother asked.

Her words caused a flame of anger to flicker within Harry's chest and he bunched his fists to prevent him from grabbing his wand and cursing everything in site.

"I haven't done anything!" Harry protested, "I don't know what he," Harry pointed accusingly at Ben, "Has told you, but I haven't done anything at all!"

"Don't be ridiculous Harry dear, Ben didn't even know what these herbs were when Professor Snape found them in his bag." Lily said running a hand over Ben's shoulder comfortingly.

Harry stared at them incredulously, then turned to his head of house who stood unmoving by the door.

"You can't possibly believe them can you?" Harry asked.

Snape said nothing, his dark eyes boring into Harry's wide green ones.

"I can't believe you would- Does family mean nothing to you, boy? Nothing?" James asked, his face furious.

Harry turned back to his father, surprised.

"You don't even need to answer because I can see it in your eyes. He's your brother!! Your own brother and you would forsake him like this!!" James was almost screaming at him now.

Harry opened his mouth to scream back before something inside him snapped and he swallowed back his angry words, holding a calm composure instead.

"I obviously mean nothing to this family, so no, you're right, this family doesn't mean anything to me anymore. To be honest, it never has."

His quiet words sank in slowly, the calmness of his voice enraging his father even more.

"How dare you-" James started forwards angrily.

SLAP.

Harry held his cheek, stunned, and turned to his mother in surprise. She drew back her hand, a look of fury on her face.

"How could you say such things about your family, Harry?" She asked in a deadly whisper.

Harry could only rub his face in astonishment. His mother had never hit him before. He felt his eyes watering from the sting, and his chest tightened.

"You all hate me." He whispered, "You've _never_ given me the same attention as him."

Ben stared at the scene before him, clearly having underestimated the reactions that everyone would have over this. Every other time Harry just got shouted at and given a punishment. Why was the little brat retaliating – it wouldn't do any good.

"That's because your brother is special." James said, moving to stand with the other two.

Harry's chest tightened even more as he fought back the angry tears threatening to overwhelm him.

"Of course he is," Harry sneered, "Well I hope he's happy with the situation he's created. I only bet he's disappointed it was Lily who hit me and not you."

Ben's eyes narrowed. It was obvious to Harry that his brother had used him as an excuse when the drugs had been found. He hated his brother for not speaking out.

Harry couldn't look at them any more and he turned on his heel to leave.

"Thanks for all your help." Harry hissed at Snape as he passed him.

The potions master had remained silent throughout the confrontation and only watched Harry intently as he left.

Once in the corridor Harry let the first few tears run down his face in anguish.

ooooooooooo

It was dark. Harry could hear the leaving feast upstairs in the Great Hall but he had made a definitive decision to not attend. He scowled darkly and flicked another small stone across the floor of the corridor.

He had returned to the quiet area where he'd found the necklace those few weeks ago. Harry had guessed correctly that he wouldn't be disturbed down here and had sat wallowing in self-pity for the last few hours.

"It's not fair." He murmured softly to himself, running his hand over the seam of his neglected robes.

A large bang echoed from upstairs and the noise level increased, but Harry paid it no attention. He didn't care how much fun they were having, he just wanted to be left alone.

Lost in his thoughts for quite some time, Harry wasn't really sure of how long he'd been sitting there. He blinked owlishly in the darkness and stood stiffly, ready to return to his dormitory before everyone else came back from their meal. Thinking of it, they should probably have returned from their meal quite some time ago.

Hands buried in his pockets, his mind buried in his thoughts, he didn't notice his Professor until he almost walked into him.

"Potter? Why weren't you at the feast?" Snape asked, his voice sounding strange to Harry's ears.

Harry met his eyes, noticing straight away that the older man seemed caught out. Snape was never caught out with anything.

"I wasn't hungry…" Harry returned slowly, catching the movement of Snape's hand as he slid something behind his back.

Was that a… mask?

"I'm going to bed." Harry told him, edging slowly past Snape suspiciously.

"I don't think so Potter." Snape said dangerously quiet.

Harry paused and swallowed nervously. What the hell was going on?

He turned back to face Snape, but he was too late in doing so. A white light flared before his eyes and his world went black.

ooooooooooo

"… take this one to the Dark Lord. He's only second best. He won't want him."

"Why not? He can use him as a bargaining tool if nothing else."

"And personally I reckon a good bout of Cruciatus would finish him off."

As their laughter echoed around his ears, Harry wondered why he was on the floor. His mouth was dry and his head ached. What had happened?

He opened his bright eyes and blinked a couple of times.

"I see, look who's decided to join us."

A hand grabbed Harry's robes and pulled him roughly to his feet. The world swayed and Harry stumbled, struggling to focus on the large men standing before him.

They were all wearing masks. White masks with grotesque expressions. Death Eaters? Where was he?

"Where's Professor Snape?" He said, almost stumbling over his own words.

More laughter rang out across the small room.

"Your dear Professor left some time ago. Wanted us to be the ones to present you to the Dark Lord."

Harry frowned at the leering face before him and tried to make sense of the words.

"The, Dark- Lord?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Yes indeed. And you had better show him some respect." Another of the three growled.

"The Dark Lord Voldemort?" Harry asked in disbelief, not realising the faux-pas he had made until a solid punch in the face returned him to the floor.

"Don't ever say his name!" The owner of the fist shouted at him angrily.

Harry shook the stars from his vision, muttering a 'sorry' under his breath. He was soon pulled back into a standing position where the large men in the room eyed him predatorily.

"Your brother is the Boy Who Lived, isn't he?"

"That's what Snape said."

Snape was a bastard, Harry scowled.

"I suppose I am." Harry muttered moodily, the earlier argument still fresh in his mind.

"Well, as we don't have your brother here to pay for his actions, you'll have to do, won't you?"

Harry was suddenly very nervous. These men were all adults and although he had been subject to one or two punches from his father, he'd never experienced the anger of three dark and no doubt powerful wizards at once.

"I- no, I've never- I didn't do anything." Harry stammered as the first man stepped forward.

His grin was feral beneath the mask and Harry couldn't contain the fear he felt inside his chest. He struggled against the man holding him tightly.

"Don't worry, little Harry, we need you in one piece for the Dark Lord." He reassured with a smirk.

"But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun." The man behind him whispered carefully in his ear.

Harry looked anxiously for an escape route but he couldn't even find his wand with his arms held tight at his sides.

With a weary acceptance he met the eyes of his attacker darkly, trying to appear stronger than he really felt inside.

"I want to see him bleed." Came the laugh from the third man.

"So be it." The first grinned, drawing back his fist for a heavy punch.

Harry closed his eyes.

ooooooooooo

Stumbling and coughing Harry was dragged to the entrance of the Great Hall. There were voices around him but he couldn't make sense of any words past the ringing in his ears. His three friends were taking him to see their master, he could deduce that much.

He felt the warm blood on his hands and tried to draw comfort from the heat. He shivered in a cold sweat and everything ached. He had particularly disliked the kicks he'd received in the ribs. His vision swam but he thought he could make out a sea of black robes on either side. Where they the other students?

When he hit the ground he experienced a delayed reaction of pain to his knees and winced when it hit. He coughed again and leant forward on his already grazed hands to catch his breath.

Whilst doing so, he managed to focus on the feet before him. Just one pair. The shoes were well polished and sturdily made. He frowned, trying to orientate himself.

He followed the shoes to the robes – also immaculately made, with a pitch black colouring that almost radiated power. Harry thought back to his necklace. The power felt extremely familiar.

With a strain he reached the top of the robes where an emotionless face stared back at him, red eyes burning into his very soul, the whiteness of the face making his headache sing.

"Harry." The figure hissed slowly, savouring the sound of the word, "It's been quite a while since I last saw you."

Harry didn't dare himself to speak. He couldn't tell if it was from pure dread, or if it was just awe. The figure standing before him was not a mere man; there was something about him that knocked the breath out of Harry's chest. The darkness was enthralling but extremely daunting.

He took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself.

"Lord Voldemort." He whispered.

The figure smiled in a way that Harry didn't like at all.

ooooooooooo

_There you go. Hope it wasn't too violent – but the drama is heating up. It's all about choices in the next chapter. Thanks to the reviewers!x_

_(Ps. Some of my other stories are just on temporary hold. I go through bursts of enthusiasm towards storylines but there are a couple here that I will definitely come back to at some point.)_


	4. Choices

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters._

_More violence I'm afraid - but nothing gory, just a few punches etc._

_Also, for those dubious about the 'no slash as yet comment' I haven't really decided but if I did include anything it wouldn't be weird or a major part of the story._

_I'm thinking Voldemort will become the equivalent of a father figure, but initially it'll just be a teacher-pupil relationship._

Normal speech'

_'Snake speech'_

_Enjoy!_

**oooooooooo**

**A Cold Green**

Choices 

Harry's head swam. What the hell was going on? How had Voldemort managed to get into the castle? Harry must have been ignoring the powerful man in front of him, as the next thing he heard was:

"I won't have him only giving me half his attention. Severus, if you would…"

Harry was so busy trying to make sense of the Dark Lord's words that it came as a great surprise when a small glass bottle was pressed against his lips and a cool liquid entered his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, trying to spit out whatever potion had been administered.

A sharp smack against he back of his head with what he guessed was a fist stunned him and blurred his vision once more. He heard a familiar voice mutter,

"Thank you…"

Again he found himself drinking a liquid that he didn't want to, but this time he couldn't focus on the muscles required to close his mouth in defense.

Wait a minute… a potion? Who was giving him potions? As the bottle was lowered Harry strained to focus on the eyes in front of him. They were a dark endless black that he recognised as having glared at him many a time. A pair of eyes he hadn't seen since the corridor earlier that evening.

Snape.

Before he realised it, his senses had returned fully and the pain had ebbed enough for him to realise where he was. The fact that the potion had helped him didn't detract from the fact Snape was the one who had landed him in this mess in the first place and he wrenched his arm free suddenly, lunging forwards with a swiping punch, teeth bared in anger.

Snape seemed to have just registered the movement in time, however, and smoothly moved his head out of the way. This incensed Harry further but before he could launch a further attack he was hauled backwards from behind and thrown hard on the stone ground before those now familiar feet.

"Feistier than I would have guessed." Voldemort hissed, a thin smile warping his features, "But I will remedy that if I have to…"

His wand appeared from the dark folds of the cloak and Harry could only stare, frozen in place as it swung around to face him.

"Close your mouth now, Harry. You may be facing death but you must remember your manners."

Harry snapped it shut sheepishly, eyeing the Dark wizard before him with caution. The tall man watched him and for several moments there was silence. Harry was aware of the other students being held in place at their tables by hundreds of masked men. Surrounding this central group were many more, but it was only him and Voldemort in the centre of the hall now.

Time almost stopped as red eyes met green, and Harry felt an unease such as that when Snape looked at him sometimes. Something wasn't right and he struggled to control his thoughts, trying instead to visualise his hatred for the man and the situation in general. The thoughts running through his head turned to ramblings,

'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you… shit my head really hurts… I don't even know what's going on but I know that everything is sore! I HATE you, let me go! I just want to sleep.'

Again Voldemort smiled, but this time it was laced with warning.

"Not bad, Harry, not bad at all, but I want to see how you fare with something a little harder."

What wasn't bad?

This was his last sensible thought before he was hit with an incredible pain that ripped through his chest and rippled across his body. It shot up his back and he heard himself scream loudly in agony. He'd never experienced anything like this hot sharp fire before.

And then it was gone, leaving only a ringing in his ears and a pins and needles feeling in his legs. He was face down on the floor once more, clutching his chest in defense. He struggled to pull himself up with shaking arms.

"Now," Voldemort asked, slowly twirling his wand, "What did you think of that?"

Harry caught his breath slowly.

"Hurt…" He managed to mutter softly as he pulled himself up.

"You can't stand in front of me unless I ask you, you should know that." Came the cool voice from the man in front of him.

A spell knocked his legs out from under him and he fell to his knees once more. The next thing he knew, a thin shining cord had wrapped itself tightly around his upper torso, binding his arms tightly to his sides. It dug into him painfully, and gave off an unusual heat.

"I think you'll like this one…" Voldemort smiled at him.

Harry looked up at him with wide green eyes, almost expecting what came next.

The cord burst into flame and Harry winced as the heat blistered across his chest and up his arms. All he could do was pull his face as far back from the flames as he could whilst the numbing pain of the licking flames ripped through his arms.

He didn't give Voldemort the pleasure of a scream this time though, and only gritted his teeth, trying to meet those red eyes defiantly. Voldemort smiled and raised his wand higher, increasing the flames to a level that Harry couldn't ignore.

He let out a pained yell and struggled against his bonds for several seconds, falling backwards to the ground before once again the spell was released and all that was left was the constricting wire. Harry felt defeated once more.

The Dark wizard was no doubt just playing with him until his brother, the main attraction, appeared. He blinked back the tears and tried to ignore the pain across his chest and arms as he lay on his back, staring up at the starry ceiling.

Another unfamiliar spell raised him back up on to his knees and he scowled at the stone floor angrily. He had no idea what was going on, and it was all the fault of his brother, no doubt - this was causing him great physical pain that he wasn't willing to accept it for his brother's cause. As if on cue, Voldemort spoke once more.

"You were late to join the party, Harry. Why were you not celebrating the end of term with your classmates and family?"

The question was asked teasingly and Harry couldn't answer. In fact, he wouldn't answer. He set his jaw squarely and glared at the red-eyed man before him.

"I see, you've gone off me have you? _Why don't you try and get some answers out of him, Nagini._"

Harry blinked, noticing the change in speech. An impossibly large snake appeared from behind the tall man, it's tongue flicking the air leisurely.

"_Can I have him when you're done?" _The enthrallingly feminine hiss asked slowly.

Harry eyed the large snake carefully as it twisted its way towards him.

"_Perhaps, but I am not done with him yet… just scare him, do not harm him."_ Came the hissed reply.

Green eyes frowned. Why make that public knowledge? Now he didn't have to worry about being eaten. No wait… parseltongue… but surely _someone_ else in the Great Hall other than the Dark Lord spoke it. There had to be hundreds of wizards here.

Harry glanced around the room at the reactions around him. The death eaters were all watching the scene with sickly smiles, some appearing more attracted to the situation than others. The students were whimpering away as could be expected and there were some expressions of horror up at the head table.

It's just a snake… Harry thought, unmoving from his kneeling position.

Nagini's round eyes blinked lazily at him as she slithered forwards and raised her head, hissing in an intimidating manner.

Harry glanced back at the Dark Lord wondering how he was supposed to react. Would it give the game away if he remained calm? His hesitation as to what to do seemed enough to intrigue the pale man who narrowed his deadly eyes and ran a finger across his lips thoughtfully.

"_He's not playing, massster…"_

The snake circled Harry, her body long enough to surround him in glinting scales and she increased the volume of her hissing making sure that she showed everyone her sharp fangs.

_"I can see that… perhaps you should bite him."_

Harry forced himself not to react to that particular statement and merely continued watching the snake circle him. Nagini laughed and shot forwards almost playfully, raising a worried gasp from the onlookers.

Harry just swallowed, reassuring himself that the Dark Lord still needed him for a while yet. The snake seemed to scowl at him and slithered backwards in a bit of a huff.

_"He'sss boring, master. I want a better one who will scream and cry…"_

"_Very well, I will find you one soon. Leave him be."_

Nagini turned with a flick of her tail and gradually disappeared out of Harry's view once more. He let out a small sigh.

"Well that was disappointing, little Harry. You should learn that if you want to survive around here then you have to scream a little bit now and then to keep the crowds happy. Perhaps you need reminding of this…"

Harry quickly shuffled back in escape as the pale man raised his wand again.

"Surely this is not necessary." A voice rang out strongly from the head table.

Most faces turned to see the owner of the powerful voice – Albus Dumbledore, who stood by the head table under the watch of several death eaters.

Harry now had a clear view of the table where all the teachers stood, some angry, others worried. He saw his parents, both standing protectively by Ben. There must have been a sort of panicked run-around, as Harry noticed that house tables were mixed and around a quarter of the students were missing. Perhaps they escaped the initial attack…

There were several strangers that Harry spotted too – they must have been Aurors. Under further scrutiny Harry spotted Sirius nursing an injured arm, and further back, Remus – his godfather.

An unfamiliar pang of worry rolled over him when he saw his godfather. He didn't really have much care for what happened to anyone else, but Remus was the only one who ever looked out for him. He didn't really know what to do as the feeling was so alien to him.

"Now Dumbledore," Voldemort said shaking his head in disappointment, "You should know that it's all about appearances in this game and if I need to appear dangerous, then I shall make sure that I do."

He raised his right arm and clicked his fingers loudly.

In response to this two large death eaters stepped out of the ranks, one punching Harry hard in the face in a very smooth motion. Harry hit the ground at a bad angle and the wind left his lungs in a painful whoosh. The second man kicking him in the ribs a couple of times with his heavy boots did not help matters much either.

Harry gasped for air as he was dragged upwards again. Spitting away some blood he felt a wave of anger and threw himself backwards, struggling ferociously against the strong arms that held him.

On the first launch backwards he heard a satisfying crack and roar of anger as the back of his head collided with something solid… hopefully a nose. The action probably caused him as much pain as his attacker, he thought, annoyed at the numbing sensation creeping around the back of his head.

But this didn't stop him kicking out forcefully with his legs, connecting with something solid at least twice. Once his legs had been grabbed he had little fight left in him and he yelped in pain as he was forced to the ground face first. The full weight of someone's knee pressed deeply into his back and it caused him too much pain to struggle any further.

The bindings were released but his arms were quickly grabbed and wrenched behind him eliciting another howl of pain from his mouth. A meaty fist grabbed a handful of his hair and stretched his head back awkwardly.

"Are you ready to behave Harry?"

He heard Voldemort's amused tone of voice and growled, struggling aimlessly against the two death eaters apparently sitting on him.

His face was thrust forward into the solid stone with a thump and yanked back up very suddenly. Harry blinked, the pain of it only rapidly hitting him then. He felt the fresh cut on his face now bleeding freely down his cheek and panted very ungracefully as he tried to regain his breath.

The hand knotted in his hair did not loosen up.

"As I was saying before our young guest arrived, I want to bargain with you, Mr Potter." Voldemort's unnatural voice said powerfully.

"We're not going to bargain with you!" Was the firm reply from Harry's father.

Harry strained his head to see what was going on but received an increase in pressure against his back.

"Don't you fucking try it." A deep voice hissed in his ear.

He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to focus on anything except the pain.

"I'll let you have your youngest son back in return for your oldest." Voldemort announced almost triumphantly.

In the silence that followed Harry began to chuckle softly. Little did Voldemort know but he was offering them the best deal in the world – don't hand over the son that they love and the one that they hate gets taken away and murdered. Perfect.

His amused thoughts were abruptly stopped when his death eater slammed his face into the floor once more, but this time didn't raise it back up, and Harry was left to survey the events at an angle parallel to the floor. The cold stone sobered his thoughts up slightly and it took a few minutes for the room to stop spinning.

"I'm glad you find it so amusing, Harry…" Voldemort hissed suspiciously, gaze lingering on the helpless figure before returning his attention to the head table.

"We'll do no such thing." His father announced loudly.

Surprise surprise, Harry thought sadly.

"You're willing to sacrifice your innocent younger son?" Voldemort asked angrily, the evening clearly not going to plan.

Of course they are… Harry gazed disappointedly at the flagstones around him. Maybe a small part of him had hoped they would miraculously change their minds but it seemed they really did just want him dead.

"If it is for the good of man-kind, then yes." James continued brashly.

"I'll never go with you!" Shouted another brave voice, causing an echo in the still room – Ben.

What an idiot, Harry thought.

"Well… I can't pretend I'm not surprised. You won't mind then, if I just kill this one right now?" Voldemort continued slowly, his footsteps approaching Harry from behind.

Harry didn't struggle. He had resigned himself to his fate. What use was it to struggle for the survival of his existence if nobody else would?

The end of the wand pressed against his neck painfully and he took a deep breath in anticipation.

"You can't let them do this James! He's your son!" A voice yelled from another direction.

Remus.

"_They really hate you, don't they Harry?" _A voice hissed very quietly near Harry's head.

So Voldemort _had_ worked it out earlier. Harry didn't reply and tried to steady his breathing as he heard Remus being reprimanded for speaking out of turn. One or two less familiar voices spoke out in Harry's defense also, but his father argued his case.

"Ben is my son too, and I have to protect him!"

Green eyes fought back tears of frustration. It really didn't matter, Harry thought, wryly. He was thankful for the few sticking up for him, but if he did survive and was returned to the happy and loving care of his family, he might have to take his own life anyway. He smirked to himself a little at the thought.

"But he's family!"

"I have no choice!"

"Ben could fare better against them than Harry could! He's just a boy!!"

_"Are you scared of death, Harry?"_

Was he scared?… A little bit. But it had to be better than this, right?

"Exactly! He's just like any other boy! Hundreds of people had to sacrifice their families in the last war! I'm not prepared to let our only hope go, just for _him!"_

The last sentence was almost spoken with malice and Harry wasn't the only one who picked up on this.

_"I know you can understand me. Why don't you reply Harry?"_

Harry ignored Voldemort and struggled against the anguish he felt in his chest at hearing his father's words.

Why didn't his father love him? What made him so different to Ben? Was it really just the fame? He choked back an unheard sob, fighting to keep his anger and pain down in his chest where it belonged.

_"Breathe Harry, you're going to pass out if you don't remember to breathe…"_

Voldemort's voice contained a chuckle at the prospect of such a thing occurring but it was also soothing. Harry just couldn't concentrate on what was being said.

'Just for him.' '_Just_ for him.' 'Just for _him.'_

No matter how he said it, it just couldn't be understood in any other, more positive manner.

_"It seems such a waste to kill you… but I'm afraid the waste is necessary. They have to see the error of their ways, Harry. You understand, don't you?"_

Harry shivered at the words. By breathing in, his body welcomed back his surroundings and he regained a hold of his composure.

_"I understand…"_

He hissed his reply softly, finally answering Voldemort.

_"Good boy."_

His father was still arguing with some of the protesting teachers but he couldn't listen anymore.

"Mr Potter, you've made your decision, there's no turning back now." Voldemort announced loudly.

No protest was heard to this. Harry's attacker lifted him back on to his knees roughly as Voldemort continued. His eyes blinked ferociously as they adjusted to the new lighting and normal viewpoint once more. He disappointedly took in the impassive expressions on his parent's faces.

"It seems a shame… I know which wizard is the better of the two…" Voldemort continued, reaching a hand out to Harry's messy hair.

Harry allowed his eyes to close at comfort offered from the pale hand that ran itself over his head and down the back of his neck. Again he felt the power washing over him in waves and he drew from it, pulling it around him like a cloak.

"But if that is your decision, then so be it." Voldemort finished in a very final tone of voice.

The hand left but Harry kept his eyes closed.

"Have you ever seen a dead body before, young Benja-?"

The Dark Lord's question ended abruptly as a resounding explosion threw Death Eaters forward through the ranks in disarray, scattering chairs and knocking some robed men to their feet.

Harry heard Voldemort roar and all of a sudden there was chaos. It seemed that some enterprising students had alerted further Aurors to their situation. These new men stormed the Hall speedily, duelling their way to the head table and ushering as many students as they could out of the main door. The room was abuzz with shouts and jets of magical energy. A part of Harry found it all incredibly exhilarating and when a man fell prey to a particularly nasty slicing spell Harry didn't look away in disgust – he could only stare at the blood issuing from the man's wounded arm as he battled on.

A chair clattered past where Harry kneeled and he came to his senses.

He made his split second decision and tore himself out of his guard's grasp, elbowing his way through the seething mass of robes and using his slim form to his advantage. He soon slipped into the crowd and dodged his way to the end of the head table where he knew there was a side door into the staff room.

With his hand on the door-handle he happened to glance back over his shoulder at the multi-coloured battle going on behind him. Suddnely his eyes happened to lock with a menacing pair of red ones but before Voldemort could react, Harry disappeared into the doorway swiftly, slamming the door solidly behind him.

He paused, unsure of what to do, and listening to the muffled fighting going on behind him. Leaving it to instinct he let himself sprint though the messy staff room and around the corner into the darkness of the corridor ahead.

Running as fast as he could and experiencing a sudden panic as to where to go, his decision was made for him as he ran smack straight into something decidedly solid and knocked himself flat on his back.

He sat up hurriedly, reaching for his wand that wasn't there and feeling his stomach drop as the figure emerged from the darkness, eyes glittering darkly. The man was large and wore a deep blue cloak but it wasn't the stranger's stature that worried him… it was the shining set of fangs that greeted him in the smile…

**Oooooooooo**

_Woohoo! Another chapter past. What did you think of that one? Hope it was up to par. I think it's a bit longer than the others so hopefully you can make do with that for a few days. Schoolwork is calling me, but I'll get back to the story as soon as possible, no worries._

_The next chapter will be the action from the castle corridors and the consequent choices that Harry makes. _

_Thanks for the reviews – they really are encouraging! x_


	5. Running

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters._

_More violence I'm afraid - but nothing gory, just a few punches etc._

_Also, for those dubious about the 'no slash as yet comment' I haven't really decided but if I did include anything it wouldn't be weird or a major part of the story._

_I've taken a couple of creative-liberties with this chapter as I'm not sure some of the dark creature technicalities are right. Bear with me though – it shouldn't detract from the story too much if they're wrong. Thanks!_

Ooh and also some more swearing.

_Enjoy!_

**oooooooooo**

**A Cold Green**

Running 

All Harry could hear was his own heavy breathing. He was unable to tear his gaze away from those dark watchful eyes. It wasn't like a staring contest with Snape though, Harry felt like he actually couldn't physically wrench his eyes from the vampire's. They were an electric blue and as deep as the lake outside, but they seemed to cut into his soul. They were transfixing.

Harry's palms rested tensely on the cold stone floor and he tried to judge how fast he would be able to get up and make a run for it. The large man didn't move from his position – it was unnerving how unnaturally still the dark creature was standing.

With a burst of adrenaline Harry threw himself to his feet and mid turn he broke into a sprint. He heard the heavy flutter of a cloak behind him and raced for his life down the deserted corridor. Flying past the corridor that led to the Great Hall he heard the buzz of battle still ongoing. Ignoring this, however, he dodged sideways and ran as fast as he could still manage down a smaller side corridor where he slinked behind a suit of armour and stopped, trying to catch his breath quietly.

There was no sign of the vampire.

Harry tilted his head backward slightly and let out a sigh of relief. He hated the feeling of being chased like that – it was no fun being the prey.

He tensed suddenly, hearing a very slight footfall behind him. Turning around in a whirl designed to catch whomever it was out, his eyes widened in surprise – the vampire was standing right there, the same watchful smile playing on his face. How had he managed to get back here so fast? And without making a sound?

Trying to back up the corridor as inconspicuously as he could while the vampire just stood there, he turned and attempted another run. To Harry's horror, however, before he could make it to the end of the corridor the looming shadow that had swept up behind him crashed down like a wave, sending both figures sprawling across the floor. Harry struggled to find his footing, but the vampire's large hands held him firmly in place.

Harry let out a panicked yell and kicked out as best as he could, kicking the creature in the leg hard. He got a disgruntled snarl in reply before he was lifted upwards as if he were a rag doll. A small part of the young Slytherin marvelled at how much strength the vampire had.

"Don't run, boy."

The accent was thick and Harry had trouble recognising it. Was it Russian?

Harry struggled against the strong grip that the vampire had around the scruff of his robes but he was pinned hard against the wall and unable to move.

"You're not going to get anywhere."

The panicked green gaze locked onto that of the large vampire's and Harry continued to struggle aimlessly.

The vampire smiled and closed the gap between their faces, studying the squirming boy in his hold.

"What's your name, boy?" He asked softly, leaning to the side to inhale Harry's scent.

Harry frowned uncomfortably. He couldn't get over how much of an enigma the vampire was. It was as if he were talking to an animal… but an animal in human form. Harry had never experienced anything like this before.

"That's none of your business." Harry growled out, straining at his captors grip once more.

"It is my business," The vampire said, making eye contact once more, "I like to know where my meals come from."

Harry's face paled considerably in light of this statement and the vampire's smile widened. Those silvery-white teeth glinted in what little light reached them this far down the corridor and Harry found his gaze lingering on the vampire's face.

Hadn't he learnt that a vampire's face was it's most sensitive feature?

He could see the large creature eyeing up one of the many cuts on his face with a hunger Harry had never seen reflected in a human expression before. It scared him and he drew his head back as far as he could.

His captor, however, had other ideas and seeing his young charge's discomfort he grinned, leant in and tasted some of the blood on Harry's face. His tongue followed the route of the blood up Harry's cheek until he reached the cut itself. Harry could tell the dark creature was savouring the taste and he felt a sickened squirm in his stomach as he strained away from the touch.

When the man finally withdrew Harry let out the breath he had been holding and prayed for an escape route.

"I recognise… something in your blood." The Russian vampire muttered almost to himself.

Harry realised that if there were any moment to attack, this was it. His hand searched out the necklace sitting protectively around his neck and he withdrew it as stealthily as he could while the vampire still stood thoughtfully licking his lips.

Thankfully the necklace was still in the form of a sharp lightning bolt – trying to attack the large man before him with a drip of silver on a chain would have been decidedly harder.

"It is of no matter, I suppose…"

Those dark eyes locked on his again and the gleaming fangs moved in on Harry's neck. With a yell Harry wrenched the chain from around his neck and brought it slashing upwards across the pale face before him.

The hands holding him in place were dropped in a second and a howl of pain broke the silence of the corridor as the large man withdrew. Harry, holding the necklace tightly in his hand, threw a punch at the bleeding vampire in anger and watched in satisfaction as the dark creature fell to his knees holding his face.

The distraction allowed Harry to disappear off down the hall once more, this time without any immediate pursuit. That didn't stop his pace from being fast though and as he rounded the corner a jet of blue light splintered the wooden panelling that ran along the wall and caused him to dodge down in a panic.

Eyes wide, Harry looked back to observe the sight of a very enraged vampire on his knees with one hand outstretched. Thoughts flickered across Harry's mind - the vampire could do wandless magic? Was that even possible?

Without stopping to consider this fact too long, he threw himself around the corner where he spotted a large shadow looming slowly at the end of the corridor. Considering his situation for two seconds Harry sidestepped hurriedly to where he knew there was a secret passageway.

As a little light fell on the creature up ahead Harry realised it was a werewolf. And rather large one at that. He almost froze right there – why were there so many dark creatures in the castle? With a last sidestep Harry made it to the portrait he desired. It seemed it was just in time too, as the werewolf had noticed him and stood alertly, ears flicking to attention.

Pushing his way into the passageway and out of harms way, Harry jogged along it, the exhaustion of the previous few hours catching up with him all of a sudden. He stopped halfway along the dark cold stone passageway and slid down the wall slowly, absorbing the feeling of the cold stone against his tired skin.

His gaze fell to the necklace that lay broken in the palm of his hand. Frowning he noted that the lightning bolt had gone - instead the pendant had taken the form of a curving half-moon.

"Strange." Harry muttered to himself, holding it before his face to study.

He sat fixing the lock that he had broken earlier and soon repaired it to a good enough state that he could return it safely around his neck. The reassuring weight of the pendant returned to his chest and he felt revitalised.

"…not possible… what about the students?"

"The students would not be affected, I assure you…"

Harry sat upright and tilted his head to follow these new raised voices. Where were they coming from? Crawling silently on his hands and knees he made his way down a narrower part of the passageway that he'd never explored before.

"I still think it's too risky a spell to use."

"What choice do we have? It's not going to hurt anyone except those that we choose it to."

"But it's a dark spell!"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a light spell – it's designed for use against dark creatures for goodness sake!"

Harry frowned and listened against the back of the portrait that must have been hanging in the room these men were inside. A little light filtered through the pores in the canvas and Harry knealt down to see if he could make out who was speaking. He heard a door open and a lot of muffled intense voices.

"They're everywhere now. I had no idea it was a full moon tonight…"

"Let me fight them! You know I'm good at defense! I can defend us!"

Ben. Harry scowled.

"Don't be silly dearest, you won't have to fight them alone." Harry recognised his mother's voice.

"There really is only one option isn't there?"

"I'm afraid so, James, we were just discussing-"

"Then it's one hundred percent necessary that we use the spell – who knows how many students are being bitten as we speak! We've no time to lose!"

"I know, but…"

"There is no 'but' – we have to do this now. It's the Grenulum Incantation or nothing."

The Grenulum incantation? Harry racked his memories of defence methods that could be used against werewolves…

"Fine, I suppose we must… I just-"

"It's for the greater good." Ben's voice interjected, "Your debating is just going to cost us more lives!"

Harry rolled his eyes in the darkness. His father and brother had a way of winning arguments and debates by always bringing up the 'greater good'. It seemed that whatever they wanted, if they just argued the point from what they knew the majority of people would recognise as the 'best for everyone' then they had everyone around their little fingers.

Plus there was the fact that his brother was such a fucking drama queen.

"Then I'll do it right now."

"Be careful, James."

Wasn't the Grenulum incantation the one where all werewolves in the desired area were basically killed by their own intolerance to silver? Harry was sure it was some sort of transfiguration spell where any trace of the iron vitamin in their bodies was transformed into silver. That was a horrible spell, even for those dark creatures…

Harry scratched his head, before wincing as he came across one of his many wounds… surely that wasn't it… they wouldn't cast that here would they? The sight of the bodies would probably traumatise his schoolmates more than a werewolf bite would. Something else was bothering him though and he couldn't put his finger on it…

"Remus!" Harry said in realisation, jumping upright and violently misbalancing.

Outstretching a hand to right himself Harry assumed the portrait to be sturdier than it apparently was and his whole weight went through the back of the picture. He just heard the almighty ripping of canvas and was aware of falling a couple of feet before hitting the ground unceremoniously with a thump.

Oh well, he was involved now.

"Remus!" He shouted against, stumbling to his feet, "You can't perform that spell! You'll kill him!"

The look of astonishment on the faces of those in the room at his appearance would have been enough to make him laugh normally, but at this point in time he wasn't in the mood for laughing.

"Harry?!"

"Yes, remember me? Your other son. The one who you just sold out to Voldemort!" He said hotly, his anger getting the better of him.

"Harry dearest, we thought we'd lost you." His mother said emotionally, moving towards him with her hand outstretched.

Harry shot her a glare – he had no time for this.

"You can't use that spell on the werewolves. You'll kill Remus." He said solidly to his father who stood scowling at having the spotlight stolen from him.

"It's a necessary sacrifice." Ben said loudly, mirroring his father's words from earlier.

"Just like me I suppose?" Harry deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

"You know we didn't mean it like that dear, we would have saved you…" Harry's mother said dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"You're not dead, are you?" His father asked impatiently, expecting that one sentence to prove his point, "This spell is necessary to save all those lives outside. Are you going to allow your classmates to die for the sake of one man?"

"But he's your friend!" Harry said in astonishment, "You could at least find a way to move him out of harms way!"

"We don't have time, Harry." His mother said sadly.

Harry scowled, seeing right through her false sincerity.

"He's-"

"He's a werewolf who should have remembered to take his potion tonight. It's his own fault he transformed and put himself in this position. Now shut up an sit down while I perform this spell." His father snapped, pulling out his wand and rolling up his sleeve.

"You can't do this!" Harry yelled angrily, "Stop him!"

He appealed to the two men he had heard talking earlier but they both just shrugged and waved his protests away carelessly.

"Fine." Harry snarled, shoving his way past a disgruntled Ben.

"Where are you going, Harry?" His mother asked frantically.

"To find him." He said angrily, throwing the door open.

"Don't be an idiot." His father snapped, "Get back in here."

"Father, why should Harry get to go and I have to stay here?" Ben whined, sounding much younger than his fifteen years.

"Because I care about you, whereas I don't particularly care what happens to him." Harry's father replied harshly.

Harry's eyes met his father's stare and without a word he turned his back on them all and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He didn't know whether to scream or to cry. Part of him felt a relief that his father had finally said it outright but the other part of him was still young and felt completely distressed by the news.

It was ridiculous really. Why couldn't he have had a normal family like everyone else? Why did it have to be so hard to get along with them?

Without realising it, Harry had stormed halfway up the corridor surrounded by a cloud of dark thoughts without even checking where he was. There was no possible way he'd be able to find Remus before his father cast the spell. Plus there was the fact that he was still unarmed.

With a dark sigh, Harry resigned himself to at least hoping he would come across Remus by accident… and not get bitten…

He crept along the corridor that he was currently in, hoping with all his might that the Death Eaters had decided to stay in and around the Great Hall. Turning the corner he froze. There was a figure in the distance.

Harry stood as still as he could, clenching and unclenching his palms unsure of what to do. The glint of white gave away the fact that the man was a Death Eater but he looked injured or something. The man walked with a slight limp and occasionally stopped to right himself against the wall.

Considering the state of the man, Harry could probably hit him over the head with something and that would be that. Nerves getting the better of him as the man gradually approached, Harry decided a punch would have to do, and he envisioned his father's face atop the dark robes.

The figure made it to the corner where Harry stood ready and with a last deep breath Harry threw all his weight behind his one punch.

It hurt – the thud of his fist hitting the man's face knocked the figure to the ground and shaking off the pins and needles in his fingers Harry leapt on top of him. This wasn't perhaps the best idea, because although the man was not that broad, Harry was still by no means large enough to hold him down.

"What the hell are you-"

The snarl stopped as the man found his wand and Harry was lifted off his feet in a sharp shower of red sparks. He hit the wall solidly and had to cough several times to catch his breath where he had slid to the floor.

"Potter!"

Dazed, Harry looked up at the wand pointed at his face.

The man took off his mask and lowered it slowly.

"You!" Harry growled.

"I should deduct points for you hitting a teacher." Snape told him darkly, touching his face where the punch had connected.

Harry allowed himself a satisfied smirk at the bruise that was already beginning to show. This rapidly turned back into a scowl as he remembered why he hated Snape so much tonight.

"A teacher? A teacher who knocks their students out cold and hands them over to Voldemort?" Harry asked angrily.

"It's not as if I had much choice in the matter." Snape muttered, "You're too much like your father – why weren't you hiding and panicking like everyone else? You just walked right into me."

"I had no idea what was going on!" Harry snapped, "In fact, I still have no idea what's going on."

"Most of the Death Eaters have dispersed now. But the Dark Lord has decided to leave the werewolves behind." Snape said with a scowl as he rubbed his face tiredly.

Harry sat scowling at his teacher who still held his wand directly at him.

"That still doesn't explain why you were so keep to hand me over. Why didn't you just leave me in the corridor?" Harry asked.

Snape ran a finger along his lips thoughtfully, eyeing Harry up as if deciding whether or not he was worthy of such information. Harry just sat with his arms folded moodily.

"Perhaps," He said, weighing his words carefully, "I had considered the fact that you weren't happy here…"

Harry frowned. He hadn't expected an excuse like this.

"What?"

"Well, maybe in the heat of the moment I-"

With a sudden yell of surprise and with what felt like a bookcase falling on his head Harry found himself thrown sideways by a heavy paw, with claws that tore at his robes. He landed heavily at Snape's feet where the potions master was already directing a barrage of spells at the large black werewolf before them.

He couldn't feel his arm, but backed up behind the cursing teacher rapidly and pulled himself to his feet. Scanning the immediate area he spotted a suit of armour several metres away and with a mad-dash he ran to it and ripped it's arm off – tugging out the sword and throwing the arm itself at the werewolf that had pinned Snape into a corner.

The metal bounced off the creature's thick hide, diverting its beady gaze towards him instead.

"Shit." Harry muttered, trying to manoeuvre the sword into a decent attack position with the use of one arm as the werewolf slowly advanced.

He was sure he heard Snape call him an idiot but swept back and forth with the sword all the same. It seemed to deter the werewolf for a minute or so, but one strong swipe of the beast's arm sent the sword clattering across the stone floor.

Several spells bounced off the werewolf's back as it advanced on Harry but they seemed to make little difference. Harry could feel himself sweating profusely now. So he'd survived Voldemort and a vampire tonight already, but he was going to be finished off by a werewolf? That was rubbish, he thought helplessly.

Wincing at the resounding roar that shook the portraits on the walls Harry took the first blow from the claws quite well (so he thought himself) and managed to roll out of it before the monster could use his teeth. However, the second blow came as more of a surprise and Harry found himself flat on his back, eyes swimming with stars and a great mouth of teeth bearing down on him rapidly before he could even work out what had happened.

Unable to do anything but stare at the mouthful of sharp canines heading straight at his throat, he was vaguely aware of a ripple of energy shooting through the air and a further resulting howl of anger and pain before the teeth disappeared.

Harry listened to the stricken howling for quite a while before a pair of hands pulled him to his feet and dragged him into a different room. His ripped robe hindered his movement so he shrugged it off on to the floor as he stumbled onwards.

He shook his head, clearing the fog that had developed and only now realised the full extent of the noise that the werewolf was making. It was awful.

"What happened?" Harry asked hoarsely.

Snape lit several more candles before sitting himself on a stool and studying the scratch on his leg.

"I don't really know, but it would appear someone has attempted a spell to rid us of the werewolf problem." He replied distractedly.

"What!" Harry said, jumping to his feet and immediately regretting it as his vision swam once more.

He was too late – his father had performed the spell before he could find Remus. Harry's fists clenched angrily. He _hated_ his father.

Without realising the extent of his violent thoughts, Harry didn't notice the dark blue glow emanating from his person. He could hear the jars on nearby shelves clinking and clattering together but didn't realise it was his angry energy that was causing it.

"Potter?" Snape asked, eyeing his warily.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, eventually drawing his attention back to the room he was in.

"What?" He snapped angrily.

It was a while before Snape spoke.

"Are you going to go back?" The potions master asked quietly.

Harry looked up in surprise.

"Back where?"

"To them. To your family."

Harry gazed at him dumbly.

"I'm not an idiot. It doesn't take a genius to work out that you don't get on. I'm merely suggesting that your energies could be better spent… elsewhere." Snape said, again judging his words carefully.

"Elsewhere?" Harry echoed in suspicion.

"Think about it. There's a man here who you've already spoken to tonight, and I can tell you on good information that he's expressed a slight interest in your abilities."

Harry's big green eyes widened as he realised who Snape must have been referring to.

"But… but I'm not…"

"Powerful? Capable of hatred? Alone?" Snape offered up with a smirk.

Harry scowled.

"I don't want to be a lackey. I'm not a complete sell-out like you." He replied folding his arms.

Snape glared across the room at him.

But, Harry considered, he didn't really want to back to his classmates and his family. Surely whatever he chose couldn't be worse than them could it? The one person he had cared about was now gone thanks to his father so it wasn't like he had to feel guilty about anything. And to get the opportunity to learn alongside one of the greatest wizards of the time couldn't be half bad either. As long as he didn't get himself killed.

"He'll be leaving through the east courtyard soon." Snape said quietly, standing up to leave.

His gaze met Harry's for several seconds before he swept from the room, his limp defeating the dramatic effect slightly.

After a few minutes contemplation Harry had made his decision and he also left the room. The walk down through the halls was a haze of thoughts and his footsteps echoed back at him in a very lonely manner.

That's what he was, Harry decided – he was lonely. Perhaps he would find some people with a similar mindset. Perhaps he would find people who would listen to him for once.

Standing in the shadows under the large stone arch he gazed out at the messy pathway before him. There was definite evidence of a fight having occurred here and Harry wondered how far through the castle the battle had moved.

_"Mr Potter, what a pleasant surprise."_

Harry stiffened slightly at the voice, annoyed at not having noticed the man's arrival. He turned to face the speaker and red eyes met with green for the second time that night.

_"I want to come with you."_

**Oooooooooo**

_Sorry about the delay on this chapter but schoolwork had to come first. Hope you enjoyed it all the same though! I'm really enjoying your reviews guys so thanks for those. As you might have realised I'm not going to make a vampire-Harry diversion here so you can let out a sigh of relief! ;)_

_Again, apologies but the next chapter might be a few days depending on how I go. After that though they will hopefully be much more frequent as I've a week off – whoooo! _

_Thanks for reading! x_


	6. Obedience

_Disclaimer: I own none of these characters._

_More violence I'm afraid - but nothing gory, just a few punches etc._

_There's generally quite a lot of violence really._

_Also sorry to those who are particular about character traits and magical creature stuff because I know that I'm not always quite on the mark when it comes to explaining things – basically if I'm not sure, I just make it up. ;) Shouldn't cause any problems! _

_Parseltongue Speech_

Normal Speech

_Enjoy!_

**oooooooooo**

**A Cold Green**

Obedience

The light was dim but he could detect no obvious motion from his viewpoint on the floor. Maybe everyone had left.

Harry coughed painfully, wincing at the sharp jolts that ran through his body at the movement. He couldn't really move without causing himself pain and felt himself swimming in and out of consciousness. Each time the darkness became lighter he could make out the blurred form of his arm outstretched beside him.

He tried to wiggle his fingers but it took several seconds for them to respond. They moved and he felt the sticky liquid beneath them. Staring at this for five minutes or so, he swallowed painfully in the realisation that the liquid was his own blood.

He had probably been stabbed at some point. He didn't really remember any more. Stupid Voldemort and his games… he hated them all.

Harry closed his eyes again, hoping that this time they would never open.

Oooooooooo

_(Flashback)_

He watched the pale man before, nerves stretched taut as the red eyes studied his tattered, bloodstained robes in amusement.

_"And what makes you think I'm going to want you to come with me? You're just a boy."_

Harry stood his ground, trying to act a lot more confident than he felt.

_"Because I will work hard for you. I can be better than any of your Death Eaters."_ Harry said strongly, feeling that for once he was arguing for something that he was prepared to fight for.

_"Really… I don't think they would be pleased to hear that."_ Voldemort mused, running a white finger over his mouth and walking slowly around Harry's battered form.

Harry shivered in the cold wind that had begun to whistle around the corner of the courtyard and felt himself shrinking under the scrutinizing glare of the Dark Lord before him. Taking a deep breath he drew himself up and reminded himself why he was there.

_"I can't go back to them."_ He said, half to himself.

Voldemort heard him and stopped pacing, turning to face Harry's determined figure.

_"I feel you're underestimating my Order, boy. You can't just sign up because you want to… I have to see your potential. It's me who gets to choose."_

Harry swallowed, his strength fading rapidly.

_"You don't want me?"_ He asked, feeling very small.

The Dark Lord reached out a pale hand and Harry forced himself not to flinch. He ran a hand through Harry's thick messy hair, then tilted his chin upwards so that he could meet his gaze once more.

_"I didn't say that."_

Harry watched the red eyes for any sign of emotion but there was none. What was he supposed to do now? If the Dark Lord refused him then he might as well just throw himself off the tallest tower. He was never going back to his parents now. Never. And it seemed neither side wanted him.

_"Would you obey my every order?"_ Voldemort's voice asked over the sudden blast of wind that whipped both their robes and chilled Harry's bloodied form further.

_"I would…"_ Harry's reply was slow and the pale man noticed this.

_"That wasn't very convincing, boy."_

Harry frowned. He wouldn't be another lackey – he wanted more.

_"I won't be just a Death Eater."_ He announced boldly, _"I want more than that – I want you to teach me. I want your guidance. And in return I would follow your rules. I'm not a fool to be thrown into battle and lost in the crowds. I'm better than that, I know I am. "_

_"That's quite a statement."_ The Dark Lord replied after several moments.

_"It's the truth."_ Harry said confidently.

_"Do you really want the truth?"_ Voldemort asked with an unpleasant smile.

Harry bit his tongue in worry. His confidence was slipping out from under his feet once more.

"_The truth is that you think you've had a hard life because your family ignore you but let me tell you something – there are many people far more worse off than you. Many people who have had it bad and because of this they are bitter towards those around them. These people think like you, Harry – they think they can become something far more than the ordinary, but the truth is that the majority of them are mediocre at best. Most of these people join my cause and are lost in the crowds. You are no different_."

Harry forced back the anguish that he felt at these words. It couldn't be true. His short-lived hopes were falling to the ground fast and he felt his stomach drop at the thought of losing them forever.

_"Go home, boy."_

Voldemort gave him a pointed look and began to walk away – the darkness and the wind swallowing him up.

_"Besides…"_ Voldemort continued as he walked, _"I would rather have your brother at my side…"_

Harry physically growled at these words. That wasn't true! His brother would be useless – he was better than Ben could ever hope to be. Why was it always about HIM?

Without thinking about who he was with or what he was doing, Harry let the white-hot anger within him escape in a feeling he had never experienced before. Stretching out his arm in a fluid motion it was as if he threw the anger outwards in a pure-white release.

The jet of white streaked towards the retreating form of the Dark Lord who ducked rapidly in realisation and whirled around with his wand at the ready. The stone column behind him shattered into tiny fragments and scattered around his feet as he eyed Harry's angry figure carefully.

_"Well now… this is interesting…"_ He hissed quietly, not lowering his wand.

"I am better than my brother – why will no-one accept that!" Harry yelled at him, the white-anger still burning fiercely in his chest.

_"Because your brother is the Boy-Who-Lived…"_ Voldemort said, awaiting the reaction.

"He's NOTHING!" Harry screamed, throwing out a barrage of spells at the man before him.

He could feel his hands burning from the raw energy that his body was releasing but drew a bizarre pleasure from the pain and made it his ambition to destroy as much of his surroundings as possible.

Voldemort had apparated to a position behind him and stood watching his actions with growing interest. Not only was Harry a Parseltongue but he could also perform wandless magic. This was drawing a reluctant admiration from the Dark Lord.

Once Harry had exhausted himself he sank to his knees, thankful of the angry wind that cooled his hot face and burnt palms. He drew up a handful of gravel and threw it as hard as he could still manage. It scattered across the broken courtyard feebly and Harry choked back a sob, feeling the hot tears run down his face.

"I'm better than him…" He cried out, before retreating into whispers, as if repeating it would convince everyone of the fact.

_"You could be."_

Harry blinked and looked up at the tall man standing next to him.

_"I want to be."_ He said quietly, wiping his face – eyes turning darker once more.

_"You have a lot to learn, Harry."_ Voldemort said slowly.

Harry could tell the man was torn between the decision to take him along or leave him behind. He stood up once more. The red eyes glared at him and Harry realised worriedly that he had once again stood up without permission.

But he didn't need permission to stand up!

_"I suppose I can take you along on a trial basis… but you must understand that if I change my mind you will be killed. No exceptions."_

Harry had already made up his mind. He had no options but this and death would still be better than having to live with his family once more.

_"I understand."_ Harry replied firmly.

_"This isn't going to be easy, boy."_

_"I said I understand_." Harry snapped back.

He could feel the anger emanating from the Dark Lord before him; it circled them both as if caught up in the wind that whipped their robes around them in the evening light. His fear from earlier had disappeared and it was replaced by his own reckless anger and impatience with the situation. He didn't care what the Dark Lord thought – he had been through enough pain tonight to have prepared him for the rest of the evening.

The red eyes watched him in a calculating manner that Harry didn't like and he knew things were going to get a lot harder before they got easier.

_"Very well."_ Voldemort said darkly.

He outstretched his pale hand and Harry stared at it. Was he supposed to shake it? His green eyes frowned and looked up at the expression on the Dark Lord's face. It was unreadable.

Harry hesitantly held out his own hand and felt a jolt of energy when Voldemort grabbed it. He looked up at the red eyes which were narrowed in temporary malice.

_"Lesson One,"_ Voldemort hissed out, _"Obedience."_

With a sudden flurry of colours and with what felt like his feet being lifted from the ground underneath him Harry's already tired body was squeezed through space and deposited roughly on the hard cold marble floor of an unrecognised room.

He shook his head and stumbled as he was pulled back to his feet by the Dark Lord's strong grip. His dazed green eyes struggled to take in the new surroundings and found themselves locking once more with the dark and amused gaze of Lord Voldemort.

"If you are to achieve anything whilst you are with me you have to understand that I don't tolerate any rudeness or disobedience," He said with an evil smile, "You must also understand that pain will become an everyday occurrence."

Harry's hand was starting to ache in the tight grip that the Dark Lord had pulled him forwards in. He only then noticed that there were several masked Death Eaters standing in the room with them. And they were large, strong Death Eaters.

"You can't suppress me with violence." Harry said carefully, meeting the Dark Lord's gaze with his own determined green one.

Voldemort smiled thinly and nodded in acceptance of this statement, seeming almost impressed.

_"We'll see."_ He whispered close to Harry' face before pushing him back strongly into the crowd of Death Eaters behind him.

"This boy claims he is better than all of you put together. Perhaps you'd like to show him otherwise." He ordered, keeping eye contact with Harry, "But don't permanently maim him… temporarily is fine."

Harry glared at Voldemort's retreating back before he was grabbed roughly by the hair.

"I remember you," An unfamiliar voice growled, "You're the little brat who tried to break my nose at Hogwarts."

"Uh oh." Harry murmured to himself under his breath as he stared the large man in the eyes through the mask.

"Why don't we show you how to break bones properly." He said with a snarl, showing his teeth in a canine manner.

Harry felt another pain of hands grab his shoulders tightly and closed his eyes, awaiting the worst.

The worst came.

_(End Flashback)_

Oooooooooo

Harry heard the steady echo of footsteps in the room and forced his eyes to open once more - the action was becoming harder and harder to do.

"Does it hurt?"

Harry's brain took a few minutes to disentangle the question and make sense of it.

"Not anymore." He replied in a pained mumble.

The owner of the footsteps laughed quietly and Harry felt a hand run through his hair. He recognised the action, but it calmed him slightly.

"I can make it worse than this, remember that."

Harry blinked in acknowledgement. He could feel a liquid in his throat that wasn't normally present. The rest of his body was numb… maybe this was what it felt like to die. How could anything ever be worse than death?

"Sleep now Harry, this is just the beginning…"

Harry's body accepted this command. It was as if it had been holding on to consciousness until the order that allowed him to give up had been spoken. His tensed shoulders relaxed and his outstretched arm before him gradually faded into grey. The world tilted sideways and Harry's mind slipped into a painless bliss.

Oooooooooo

He awoke with heavy eyelids to a dimly lit room and a heavy black duvet. The warmth of the material was comforting and Harry wriggled his head deeper into the pillows, enjoying the comfort while he could. His limbs still felt heavy but he could move everything as normal.

With a start he sat upright. His hands rapidly searched for the necklace that hung around his neck. Thankfully his invisibility charm had held and the pendant had not been removed. Its warm glow of magic reassured him and he curled one hand around it protectively.

Feeling his way around his injuries he made out the bandages around his chest and wrists; the latter extending down and over his palms. One of his legs felt strangely stiff and his left shoulder ached slightly but at least he was still alive. For how long though, he didn't want to guess.

Piecing together the last few hours that he could remember, his mind only really wanted to bring up flashes of laughter, pain and blood. He definitely remembered the knife now that he put his mind to it and his hand drifted to the right side of his ribcage where the blade had first entered.

Sifting deeper into his memories he tried to bring back the sensation it had caused… like the initial shock of cutting oneself where the pain followed after the action. But it was a more intense version of that – it was the mental image of the knife entering further into his body that enthralled him and disturbed him to the core. It was the thought of the action that scared him the most.

Shaking his head gently and pulling himself out of the upsetting thoughts, Harry turned his attention to the room around him. The large fireplace was the first thing that caught his attention; the ornamental mantelpiece was large and gilded in a silvery metal. A small but heavy desk stood in one corner and a large carved wardrobe by the door. A tall wall length mirror stood next to this and drew a smile to Harry's face. Did they think him that vain?

The room was a modest size – not very large on a mansion scale but still much larger than his previous room at home or at Hogwarts. Still, his room at home had almost been a cupboard and at Hogwarts he'd had to share with others. This was great.

"You're awake."

The sudden voice startled Harry and his gaze snapped to the owner who had just entered the room with a tray of small jars.

"Snape?" Harry asked in surprise, his voice hoarse.

"Unfortunately, yes. My spare time is once more being used to babysit for a Potter."

The man's voice was sharp but he seemed tired.

"Am I at Hogwarts?" Harry asked in horror, his heart sinking once more.

Snape snorted and set the tray of potions down by his bedside.

"Don't be stupid. Dumbledore wouldn't have me personally waiting hand and foot on you, would he? You'd be left to mend in the infirmary like everyone else."

Harry let out a sigh of relief and studied the potions next to him. He spotted a couple that he didn't recognise. Snape must have noticed his expression.

"They're very advanced potions – not even studied at Hogwarts highest level. Took me a few days to make." He informed him as he uncorked one and measured it into a glass.

"And you made them for me?" Harry asked in wonder.

He didn't think anyone had ever made this sort of effort for him before.

"As if I had a choice in the matter." Snape muttered, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

"Wait a minute. A couple of days? How long have I been asleep?" Harry asked suddenly.

"You've been unconscious for three days. Drink these."

"Three days!" Harry exclaimed.

Snape's glare silenced him and he took the bottles, drinking them obediently.

"You do realise that you almost died, Potter. I don't know what you did but the Dark Lord was not best pleased. You're lucky he was in a forgiving mood afterwards. I myself would have rather left you to perish than go through all the effort it's taken to get you back on your feet."

Harry blinked in astonishment. Had his injuries really been that bad? Well, he supposed he had been bleeding everywhere and unable to move so it was highly likely that he had been near death.

"Drink this."

Another bottle was pushed into his hands. Snape's mood seemed to worsen as the minutes passed so Harry accepted each potion as it came and tried to question the man as little as possible.

"So what do I do now?" He asked quietly.

Snape was the one who had suggested running off in the first place so Harry's mind seemed to have put him in a position of guidance. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

"As soon as you have finished these I suggest you get dressed and head to the Dark Lord's meeting chambers."

"By myself?"

Snape looked at him dryly.

"Yes, Potter. All by yourself I'm afraid. Do you think you can manage that?"

Harry scowled at him. He couldn't help but feel nervous – what if those Death Eaters found him again? He couldn't afford to lose another three days.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

His robes had been in no fit state to be worn ever again, never mind to a situation where he ought to be dressed properly.

"Might I suggest you search the wardrobe." Snape growled as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, re-corking the last of the bottles and setting them back on the tray with more force than necessary.

"Oh." Harry mouthed.

He'd never really used a wardrobe before so it wasn't his fault it hadn't been the first thing to come to mind.

Snape stood upright once more and moved swiftly to the door, muttering darkly under his breath the whole time. Harry assumed it was about 'Potters' and 'time wasting'.

"Professor?"

"What?" Snape snapped angrily, whirling around in the doorway.

"Thank you for the potions." Harry said quietly and sincerely.

Snape said nothing, merely held his glare in place before whirling back around and exiting the room with the slam of the heavy door.

Shrugging to himself, Harry swung his legs out of bed, the mixture of potions making him feel more energetic already. The robes inside the wardrobe were well made and had a heavy feel to them. There were only four robes present but that was more than enough for Harry, who was used to his brothers hand-me-downs.

Slipping into a fetching dark green shirt and black robe he wandered over to the mirror to survey his outfit. Staring at himself for longer than was necessary he suddenly realised how small he felt. His reflection was all messy hair and big green eyes and he scowled at it.

His classmates had always tended to be larger than him, but he had never let it bother him before – he had just accepted it with the rest of the taunts. Now, however, he wanted to make an impression on people and that was never going to happen if he remained the size he was.

He would grow, he was sure, but he never remembered his brother being this small when he was this age.

"It's not fair." He muttered to himself, digging his hands in his pockets.

It was in this dark mood that he found his way to the Dark Lord's meeting chambers. He had no idea where he was going but only had to turn back once before he found his way there safely. He took in little of the surroundings as he walked – the halls were dark and panelled in a dark mahogany wood but that was all he acknowledged.

Standing before the large wooden doors Harry hesitated. Did he knock? Maybe it would be more time-efficient to walk straight in. But then he would probably be cursed into oblivion. Oh well, what could it hurt?

Pushing open one of the heavy doors, he strode inside, new shoes snapping down sharply on the marble floor as he walked. This room was better lit and the fine art and decorations were displayed prominently on the walls. A large long table filled one side of the room whilst the other side was lined with rows of bookcases.

"You still haven't learned your lesson, I see."

Harry followed the sound of the voice to where Voldemort sat in a grand dark red chair by the fire. He watched Harry move across the large room and swirled the liquid in his glass with a thoughtful expression.

Harry stopped short at the chair, swept his cloak behind him and bowed slowly, keeping eye contact. He pulled himself back upright swiftly and stood intently under the watchful gaze of the Dark Lord.

"It's a start I suppose."

The man stood up and immediately Harry found his self-confidence shirking. Damn his height… maybe he needed to invest in bigger shoes.

"I must say you look decidedly better than you did the last time I saw you," Voldemort informed him, circling him where he stood, "Still need quite a bit of work though…"

Harry scowled but bit his tongue.

"I've decided you need several personal trainers if this foolish scheme is ever going to benefit me," Voldemort continued, striding to a cabinet and pouring himself more wine, "You're normal school-based tutorage can be done via my contacts within each of the main wizarding schools of Europe – Severus you already know…"

Harry winced slightly. Snape wasn't going to appreciate him taking up more of the man's personal time.

"Your physical training will be done with one of my finest assassins whom I believe you have also met before. Also, I haven't finalised it yet, but I have someone in mind to oversee your wandless magic. That will come at a later stage."

Harry tried to take this all in without seeming too overwhelmed. He had prepared himself to work hard however, and that was what he would do. He tried not to look too keen about the wandless magic but somehow felt uneasy about how Voldemort had introduced his assassin… Harry had never met any assassins that he knew of…

"Your etiquette and common sense will be dealt with as we go along." Voldemort said, finishing his glass and setting it down carefully on the wooden table. He met Harry's inquisitive eyes, "And only when I feel you are ready – if you are ever ready, I will teach you the more advanced Dark Arts."

A small smile broke across Harry's pale face and Voldemort acknowledged it with a smirk of his own.

"But you have to get that far first, boy, and it won't be easy."

Harry heard the large doors open and heavy but smooth footsteps rang out across the room once more. Voldemort's smile only increased when he saw the visitor.

"Ah, here is your physical trainer right now. Harry, I would like you to meet Vladimir."

Harry felt his jaw physically drop in surprise and horror as he recognised the man standing before him. Or rather, when he noticed the thin scar that ran across his face. Vladimir smiled very predatory in a manner that held no mirth at all.

"We've met before…" The vampire said quietly, moving to stand opposite Harry.

If Harry had felt dwarfed by Voldemort, he now felt like a small child standing next to the broad shouldered vampire. He took in the man's fine blue velvet coat and dark silk shirt. He also wore a cravat that Harry liked very much…maybe he should see if he could get one of those…

The vampire seemed to have come from another age, and he very probably did. If Harry hadn't been more afraid he was about to have his throat ripped out then he would have spent longer studying the beast's fine clothes.

"I'll leave you two to your first proper lesson then…" Voldemort said with a smile to Harry.

He knew exactly what he was leaving Harry with and he seemed overjoyed by the situation. Harry glared at him as he left the room and Voldemort only watched his reaction in amusement.

"I do want him in one piece now, Vladimir, remember that."

With that the door slammed and Harry was left alone in the large room with the large vampire who looked very pissed off.

For five minutes or so they stood in silence – Harry watching the vampire uneasily and the vampire seeming to judge whether to rip Harry's head of straight away or just start with his legs.

The punch came out of nowhere and Harry was suddenly on the floor, his cheekbone numb. Acting on instinct and, unfortunately experience Harry managed to roll out of the way of the heavy booted kick that came his way. Jumping to his feet and ready to dodge anything further, it came as a surprise when he was grabbed by the collar at a far closer range than he expected, and thrown downwards against the large table, knocking the wind out of him quite violently.

"You hurt me." The Russian accent growled.

"You were going to rip out my throat!" Harry yelled, struggling against the strong grip that held him down.

"Not this time," Came the voice once more, ignoring Harry's reply – the sharp teeth far closer to his face that he would have liked, "This time I hurt you."

Harry managed to get one foot between himself and the vampire and he kicked out as hard as he could against the vampire's chest. It did little but enrage the vampire further, and Vladimir picked Harry up as if he weighed nothing and threw him across the room where he hit the ground at an unfortunate angle, bruising his already damaged ribcage.

Harry winced and picked himself up as fast as he could but Vladimir was already advancing. The large man had rolled up his sleeves to expose his strong arms and was positioning himself in some sort of fighting stance.

Harry didn't have a clue what to do. He was used to dodging punches that his brother threw but doubted that the vampire's technique would be the same. He hesitated for several more moments before throwing a glance at the vampire's face and dashing into the rows of bookcases.

He delved as far as he dared into the rows before coming to a stop behind a random set of shelves and catching his breath.

"We've been through this before, boy."

Harry cursed mentally. This was pointless – he was supposed to be learning from the vampire but instead the man wanted to beat the living daylights out of him.

"The sooner I get this over with, the sooner we can get on with your lessons…" The vampire's voice continued.

Yeah right… Harry thought with a scowl.

"The longer you hide, the more it's going to hurt when I find you."

Harry remained quiet and crouched down into a sitting position.

"_If _you find me." He muttered.

Harry sat there for what seemed like ages, studying his fingernails and brushing the dust off his new robes. Vladimir had been silent for quite a while.

Suddenly two large booted feet appeared within Harry's zone of vision… right in front of his zone of vision. He looked up, green eyes almost fixed in a wince. Vladimir's ice blue eyes were expressionless but his feelings were pretty clear when he hauled Harry to his feet by the hair and dragged him back out into the open area of the hall.

"I don't play games." The Russian growled dangerously, throwing Harry to the ground before him once more.

"Then teach me." Harry snapped.

His reply was a heavy kick in the chest.

Once he had stopped coughing the vampire spoke once more.

"I will only teach you when I believe you are worthy of being taught. At the moment you are acting like a coward."

"Well that's only because I'm scared of you!" Harry growled back – his own growl not having quite the same impact as the vampire's.

Vladimir chuckled slightly.

"You have no reason to be afraid of me yet," He said, stepping down suddenly, grabbing Harry by the scruff of his neck and dropping his voice to almost a whisper, "But by the end of today you will have very good reason."

Harry tried to meet the blue gaze evenly but failed to do so. The animalistic similarities were back and Harry began to doubt if even the Dark Lord's orders were enough to keep this vampire in check.

"I'll fight back," Harry told the man, sounding stronger than he felt with his feet almost off the ground, "I'll give you another scar."

The vampire only smiled, his elongated canines glinting in the light. He dropped Harry to the ground and stepped away, unbuttoning his cufflinks.

"You can try, boy." He said quietly, "You can try."

Oooooooooooo

And try Harry did, but it made little difference by the end of the evening. It seemed that the more the vampire managed to make him bleed, the further this fuelled the dark creature. Harry could understand why, but where the vampire was getting faster, he was getting weaker and was desperately in need of something to drink.

His muscles ached and he had no idea how long the vampire had been battering the hell out of him. He felt bruised and bloodied and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Wiggling his fingers painfully he decided that he had definitely broken something in the wrist area too.

He was also rather worried that he had smashed up the Dark Lord's room a little too much. There was a nice indent in the large table where Harry's body had met it at force, the attractive decanter where Voldemort had taken his wine from earlier was smashed on the floor (in an act of defence though) and several books lay scattered across the shiny marble floor.

"Are we done yet?" Harry asked in a croak, shielding his more painful arm as he got up from the floor once more.

"No." Came the deep expressionless voice of the vampire.

Trying to dodge another attack Harry fell back on to the hard marble once more and only noticed the predatory leap of his attacker when it was too late to move.

Vladimir landed on him smoothly and pinned him down with little difficulty. Harry gave a growl of frustration and struggled against the tight hold that the large man had on him.

"You are slowing down." He informed Harry from above.

"I'm tired. I need a drink." Harry complained, struggling again.

Without warning the vampire rolled him on to his front and dug an elbow deep into his back. Harry yelped and found himself unable to change position without causing himself further pain.

"I need a drink too…" Vladimir muttered thoughtfully.

Harry's eyes widened in realisation and the second the vampire loosened his grip Harry made a scrambled attempt at escape. The strong arms pulled him back easily, however, and held him fixedly in place. A hand crept into his hair and pulled his head to one side, exposing his neck and panicking Harry to the extreme.

It seemed the vampire was out-with Voldemort's control after all. Or maybe, he thought irrationally, Voldemort had planned this all along. Maybe Snape was pissed off earlier because he knew Harry was going to die anyway!

"You know, I don't think the Dark Lord would even want to train you, boy – you are too weak."

"I'm not." Harry protested, his voice sounding small even to his own ears as he struggled against the vice-like grip of the creature behind him.

"You have no idea how tempting it is to rid him of your annoying presence…"

Harry could tell the vampire was eyeing his neck hungrily and closed his eyes in a silent prayer that this was just a scare tactic. He could feel the dark creature running his teeth down his neck slowly before stopping and tasting the skin once more.

Harry let out a yelp of fear as he struggled once more but the vampire only chuckled deeply.

"I've had a taste of your blood before boy. It's only a matter of time before I need more."

"That's not going to happen." Harry snarled, trying to prolong the conversation. He was running out of ideas of how to escape.

"Are you going to stop me?" Vladimir whispered in his ear.

Harry smirked and made up his mind in a split second. He threw his head back as hard as he could – similar to how he had treated the Death Eater in the Great Hall. The second the blow fell, Vladimir let out an angry roar and loosened his grip for long enough to allow Harry to make a bid for freedom.

Turning to observe the vampire only when he had reached the safety of the other side of the large oak table Harry smirked in satisfaction at the blood running freely from the large man's nose. Now he wasn't the only one with a bloodied face.

The fury visible in Vladimir's expression was extreme and Harry realised he had suddenly run out of ideas. The grin slid off his face. Where was he supposed to go now? As the vampire stood up Harry racked his brain as fast as he could.

"That was a very, very bad idea…" Vladimir growled dangerously, pulling out a hanker-chief and dabbing as much blood off his face as he could, "You are really starting to irk me, boy."

The eyes that met Harry's were dark and clouded in a primal sort of anger that Harry had rarely experienced. The man's actions were controlled however, and as he advanced towards the table, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the dark presence that the creature carried with him as he moved.

Thankful that the large unmovable table separated them and that there was no possible way Vladimir could physically move it, Harry's heart sank as he watched Vladimir hold out his large hand with intent. It began to emit a purple glow and Harry realised he'd completely forgotten about the magic that the man had performed during their last encounter – how… inconvenient.

With a sweeping gesture the vampire threw the massive table up into the air and deposited it with a splintering crash against the far wall. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if the noise had resounded throughout the whole building. Hopefully the Dark Lord will have heard?

After his initial panic about being extremely exposed Harry realised that if the Dark Lord hadn't been upset about the damage before, he certainly would be now. On second thoughts, he hoped that anyone other than the Dark Lord had heard the crash.

Grabbing a nearby chair Harry hauled it off the floor and threw it with all his remaining might at the vampire, but Vladimir caught the clumsy throw skilfully, turned the chair in his hand for a better grip and smashed it powerfully down on Harry before he had a chance to retaliate.

It felt like the entire roof of the building had just collapsed on Harry's head and his ears rung after the impact. When his vision returned to him he was lying amidst the remaining splinters of the chair flat out on the cold marble floor.

His head was definitely bleeding – he could feel the warm liquid running down the side of his face and he became aware of the danger this posed. Vladimir would definitely be after his blood now. Using all his energy he only just managed to pull himself to his knees but the floor still swam.

He could make out the dragging noise of another chair being lifted from the ground and in the second it took for him to work out what it was, the heavy wood had already smashed into his chest, throwing him into a slide across the floor.

Breathless and stunned Harry was pulled upwards and stumbled forwards into the solid chest of his attacker, not really realising what it was. He pushed himself back with difficulty and it was only the hand that held his robes roughly, that prevented him from crashing to his knees.

With an uncomfortable jolt of clarity Harry froze in horror at the familiar position that he found himself in once more – the strong arm around his neck holding him in place.

"Don't struggle." Came the amused voice in his ear, "I'm not letting go this time."

"Vladimir." The strong voice rang out across the room sharply.

Harry opened the eyes he didn't even realise he had closed. Voldemort strode across the room towards them powerfully. He paused and observed what remained of his chambers before turning his attention on the stranglehold that the vampire held Harry in – that and the sharp teeth glinting perilously close to the younger man's throat.

"That's enough for today I believe." He said with a look to Vladimir that passed over Harry's head.

What? Where was the reprimand! Why was Voldemort not more upset that the vampire had been about to rip out his throat?! Harry opened his mouth to voice his opinions but the hold around his neck was too tight.

"Look what he did to me, how many times have you seen me bleed?" Vladimir argued, his Russian accent thickening.

Harry frowned as their conversation passed into rapid Russian. He had no idea what was going on but this position was painful and his body ached. He needed his bruise potions and only then remembered that they were all back at the castle. He would have to start all over again…

"Excuse me?" He asked loudly, his voice painful to use and not caring if he interrupted their conversation.

Two sets of scowling eyes turned to him impatiently.

"Are we done for the night? I would rather like to return to my room." He asked with a cough as the vampire released him.

The two of them shared a look that was clearly not intended for Harry's eyes – Harry rubbed his shoulder carefully, not really understanding what was happening. He didn't care anymore – he wanted to return to that warm bed and switch off from everything once more.

"Yes, go," Voldemort ordered all of a sudden, "I want you back here tomorrow morning at six. Wear the blue robes."

Harry frowned and nodded, giving the disgruntled vampire a last look before slipping through the large doors in silence.

Feeling his way along the darkened corridor he found his gaze flickering rapidly from shadow to shadow as statues and portraits loomed ominously out at his over-anxious and dazed mind. More than once he had to stop and lean back against the solid walls to regain his sense of balance.

Finally reaching his room he clicked the door shut firmly behind him and staggered over to the miniature en-suite bathroom. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to survive his lessons with Vladimir. He just didn't understand why Voldemort hadn't been more annoyed at the vampire for trying to kill him.

Or maybe Vladimir hadn't been trying to kill him – maybe the man had been trying to scare him. Harry scowled at his lack of insight on the matter and resolved to find out more about the creature as soon as he could.

Washing himself down clumsily he watched the bloodied water run over the pristine white ceramic of the sink, lost in thought. He walked heavily back into the room and pulled off his clothes, crawled achingly into bed and closed his eyes.

Perhaps next time he saw Snape he could ask for a few herbs and ingredients. He just hoped he survived long enough to see the man again – at this rate he wasn't going to last a week of training.

Ooooooooooooo

_I think that turned out a bit longer than I intended._

_Thanks for hanging in there, the updates are slowing down I know, but they're still coming:0 I plan on speeding up the next few so that time passes a bit faster – I'm thinking it would be a bit boring going through every single day of Harry's training._

_Again, thanks for the updates – encouraging as always! Will be back soon! x_


	7. Arrogance

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

More violence and blood-y descriptions but nothing extreme.

Enjoy!

**A Cold Green**

Arrogance

"Faster."

Harry scowled and worked his tiring arms further. He'd managed to fight his way past the barrier of aches and pains that came along with days of continued physical exercise and was struggling on with his stamina weaknesses.

But anyone with half a brain could do push-ups.

"This isn't a very advanced workout." Harry complained loudly to the pacing vampire.

A boot came down slowly on the back of his head and pressed it downwards awkwardly so that his nose touched the floor.

"And yet," Vladimir replied quietly, "You seem to struggle."

Harry growled as the boot released his head and he sped up his pace. Thankful that whatever conversation Voldemort had had with the vampire had calmed his apparent thirst for Harry's blood, he was still rather wary of the large man's actions around him.

His only decoration for the past two hours had been the floor at varying distances. With one hundred and twenty six push-ups to go he hoped to be done as fast as possible and put all of his effort into the last few.

Mind you, the sooner he finished, the sooner he would be put into some other stupid muggle workout. This was the sort of thing his brother and his friends did to show off to girls – it hardly seemed assassin-material.

"Are you sure there's nothing else I could be doing instead?" Harry pressed.

"Less talk."

He scowled and wiped the sweat from his forehead, his press-ups becoming slower as he went on. It was going to be another long day.

Oooooooooooooo

"Punch me."

"Excuse me?"

"Punch me in the chest as hard as you can."

Harry frowned at the vampire disbelievingly.

"So you have an excuse to hit me back?" He asked suspiciously.

Vladimir smiled thinly, but stood solidly within an arms reach of Harry.

"I don't need an excuse to hit you. Now punch."

Harry shrugged and threw as hard a punch as he could at the large chest. He expected it to have had a greater impact than it did however, as the last week of training had strengthened his muscles significantly.

Apparently not significantly enough.

Vladimir didn't even flinch and instead told him to hold his current position as he moved behind Harry and readjusted his stance. He then proceeded to show him how to punch properly and how to put one's body's power behind the action.

Harry sucked all the information up earnestly. This was the sort of thing he was interested in – combat. Never mind any more of that push-up, cardiovascular stamina rubbish.

Unfortunately however, the next few months focussed heavily on his fitness and stamina, and after a hard days work in the classroom the last thing he ever wanted to do was agility training or speed training.

The classroom work wasn't too bad initially but after the first couple of weeks it started heating up and Harry assumed that they were seeing how hard they could press him before he broke. He wasn't going to break though – he was determined to show them how well he could work and after a hard days tutoring and an evening in Vladimir's self-made gym he would often be found in the manor's library revising and researching the next days work.

To his disappointment he saw little of Voldemort and was instead passed off on other members of the inner circle. Apparently it was hard work being a Dark Lord. Vladimir's mood swings towards him were still too erratic to earn his complete trust and Snape was just never around enough to have a decent conversation with.

Harry found himself feeling lonely once more.

One evening several months into his stay at the manor he found himself unable to sleep and instead threw some clothes back on and wandered into the hallway. It was late so there was little movement. This manor was used primarily for planning and strategies so only those of Voldemort's most trusted servants were ever allowed to visit.

The advantage of this was that very few knew of his existence. After the attack at Hogwarts his death had been announced in the papers alongside a picture of his teary eyed family members. Heartbroken, Harry had thought wryly. Any publicity stunt would do. The memory of this article cast a shadow over Harry's mind as he remembered the werewolves.

Remus.

The newspaper had detailed the names of the casualties involved and sure enough, his godfather's name had been there. Part of him had hoped that Remus had somehow escaped the spell but there it had been in black and white for the world to see.

The section that riled him up the most was the quote from Dumbledore claiming that 'although the spell cast saved the lives of many within the castle, the results of the incantation were serious indeed and the caster remains unknown'. Unknown! Harry had laughed bitterly at the time. His father had obviously decided that the repercussions of his valiant act had been too negative and so he had kept quiet about the affair.

He felt somehow vindicated that his father had been prepared to cause those men such agony and pain however, as it gave him reason to do the same. The side of the 'light' wasn't as shiny and innocent as it was cracked up to be and Harry felt no guilt in performing dark spells anymore. They were all hypocrites and he himself was one of the few people carrying out the actions that he had always intended – he had decided to turn dark and he was doing so. There was no in-between anymore.

Harry found himself in front of the heavy doors to the Dark Lord's meeting chambers once more. A faint light spilled out from underneath and Harry frowned. Who would be in there at this time of night? No-one should have had access except the Dark Lord himself and he was supposed to be away on business this week.

Harry knew he wasn't supposed to enter the room and hadn't been there since Vladimir had trashed it during their initial lesson… that seemed like years ago now. And if Voldemort wasn't here then he would be doing him a favour in checking the situation out.

Opening the door silently and practising some of the manoeuvres he had been taught he surveyed the initial area. The room had been repaired since his first visit and the large heavy table stood once more where it should be. The there was no flickering from the fire so he assumed it was unlit. The faint light came instead from a set of candles that he remembered standing on the desk.

Shutting the door behind him silently he entered the room, eyes and ears alert. He kept his legs prepared to duck down or jump out in any direction and was rather proud of how soundlessly he was making his way across the large room.

Sudden movement from behind a bookcase sent him into a crouch behind the nearest chair and he hoped that there was enough shadow on this side of the room for him to remain unnoticed.

The tall figure of a man walked out casually, head bent over the book as if deeply absorbed in its contents. He set the book down on the table but remained standing – leaning on the desk as he read. Harry watched for some time before making his journey towards the man for a better look.

He knew better than to attack any random stranger as they might have been a guest of Voldemort, but this man was browsing through the Dark Lord's books as if they were his own. Harry felt an impatient anger bubbling up inside him. It wasn't as if he and Voldemort were best friends but technically the Dark Lord was his master now, so he felt obliged to defend the manor and its contents.

He now stood within two steps of the tall man and was able to make out the slight creases on his face accented in the light from the candles. He had a slight goatee but where the hairs used to be black many of them were turning to white. Judging by his posture and the way he held his wide shoulders however, Harry still struggled to call him 'old' and decided against physical contact if and where possible as the man looked stronger than he guessed he himself was.

Sliding his wand silently from his sleeve as the man turned another page Harry took a deep breath and stepped out confidently from the shadows wand pointed directly at the man's head. As he did this however, the man himself whirled around and Harry found the stranger's wand millimetres from his own nose.

The intense eyes of the man blinked in surprise before the expression was replaced with anger. Harry held his ground however, and overcame the unnerving speed at which the man had turned.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked, his voice strong.

The man raised an eyebrow and lowered his wand slightly.

"It's of none of your concern. And who are you, boy, security now?" He asked, his voice strangely familiar to Harry's ears.

Harry held his wand securely in position and a blank expression on his face.

"I hope you have permission to be in here." Harry continued, making it up as he went along.

"I do, and I know for a fact that you do not." Snapped the man in return, "Lower your damn wand, boy. If I'd wanted to hurt you, you would be dead by now."

Harry scowled, the anger in his chest welling upwards at this comment.

"Who _are_ you?" He asked again, this time more curious than impatient.

"I said," The man growled, "That is none of your concern."

With a speed Harry wouldn't have thought the man possessed his hand snapped up and knocked Harry's wand out of the way. Harry, thanks to his recent practise, was quick to retaliate and spun around, moving his wand out of harm and firing the first advanced curse that entered his mind.

As he did this, the man had obviously had the same idea and a searing red spell grazed Harry's chest, causing him to breath in deeply as it scorched his clothing. Again it was thanks to Vladimir's positioning that he had automatically stood side on to his attacker rather than facing him head on.

"Not bad."

Harry scowled darkly at the condescending tone of the stranger.

"Who are you to judge me?" He snapped angrily, throwing another powerful curse at the man who sidestepped it easily.

"I," The man said slowly, twirling his wand, "Am someone who you should be more civil towards."

With an electric blast of blue light Harry was lifted of his feet by the spell he wasn't expecting and thrown roughly to the ground, wand skittering out of sight across the shiny floor and into the shadows.

"You can't just-!"

Harry's yell was cut off as he acknowledged the wand positioned perilously close to his nose.

"I can do what I like, Harry."

Harry frowned in confusion and pulled himself up on his arms to get a better look at the speaker.

"How do you-?"

"Shh."

What he hell was going on? Who was this guy? And how did he know Harry's name? Harry withdrew slightly, a piece of his thick hair falling before his eyes as the stranger kneeled down beside him conspiratorially and watched Harry's no doubt confused expression. The man frowned.

"You really need a haircut, boy, you know that?"

"You can't just come and tell me things like that! Who _are_ you and what-?"

A finger came down on Harry's mouth lightly and he closed it. His chest was really burning where that spell had connected and he was most uncomfortable on the floor next to this weird guy.

"Call me Tom, Harry…"

The man seemed to be trying to tell him something but Harry could only stare back at him blankly.

"Tom what?"

"Tom Riddle."

Again there was what Harry felt like calling a dramatic pause, judging by the way the stranger was looking at him, but he had no idea why the name should have been significant to him. He was good at history – he was just sure he'd never heard the name Tom Riddle before.

"I'm sorry but I don't know who you are. You had better be significant to the Dark Lord though, because if I find out that you've broken in here without his permission then-"

"Then what?" Tom asked with a small smile, "You're a cocky little thing aren't you? Tell me Harry, what will you do?"

Harry glared angrily at this Tom character who was obviously making fun of him. The anger swirled within his chest once more and he felt like punching the man. His instincts were telling him not to, however, since he was wandless and the man had thrown him across the room with that blue spell earlier - the thought of which made Harry rub his chest carefully.

"I'll kill you." He said quietly, meeting Tom's familiar eyes.

"Will you really?" Tom replied equally as quietly, keeping the stare, "And have you ever killed anyone before, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, getting the impression that he was out of his depth here. He didn't answer and Tom Riddle continued,

"I can see your skills have increased since you arrived here, but do you really think yourself capable of murder?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Harry considered. When it was put like that he wasn't so sure, but if it were someone he was emotionally detached from … someone who he had reason to hate… Something deep inside his self made the decision for him and he heard his voice reply quite coldly,

"Yes."

Tom stared deep in his eyes for quite some time after this statement, seeming to consider the answer carefully.

"Good… good… well, I'm afraid you won't be killing me tonight, Harry. I will, however, keep this conversation in mind."

The man stood up in one swift movement, his cloak fluttering past Harry's face as he turned. Standing up Harry retrieved his wand from the shadows and stood, unsure of what to do next.

"You can go back to your bed, Harry."

But he was still uneasy leaving the man with access to all the Dark Lord's books and writing.

"_Harry," _The voice hissed_, "Go to bed."_

Harry's head snapped up on hearing the parseltongue and he stared at the figure by the desk. Tom Riddle's eyes had changed from their blue grey tones of earlier to a very familiar deep endless red that watched Harry's reaction in amusement.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked in horror, feeling very foolish all of a sudden.

Tom Riddle smiled and gave the hint of a nod before returning to his books and ending his interest in Harry for the evening.

Harry felt his face flush red in embarrassment and he made himself scarce as fast as he could. Only when he was safely back in his room did he bang his head off the door several times, cursing his stupidity.

"Tom who?" He mimicked angrily, kicking a footstool out of the way.

Now Voldemort would think he was a complete idiot.

Oooooooooooo

"You're an idiot."

"I'm at a fourth year level and I'm only thirteen! Give me a chance, won't you?" Harry replied in frustration.

Snape did no such thing and read over his work once more, scowl permanently attached to his dark eyes.

"What gives you the slightest indication that this _spell_ would work in this situation?" He sneered, waving the parchment at Harry.

"I don't know," Harry said shortly, "Your teaching skills?"

Snape slammed the parchment down on the desk angrily and glared at Harry's defiant posture.

"I have far better things to be doing with my time than wasting it with you. You're an ungrateful little brat, you know that?" He snapped.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, hoping to inflame Snape's temper further and succeeding. The more people called him names, the more he felt the need to act up and Snape always found some reason to do so. Snape whirled around suddenly and stalked to the door of the makeshift classroom in a stormcloud of grumpiness.

"Well then, enjoy explaining to the Dark Lord why you haven't completed the weeks work because I'm leaving. I have things that needs to be done at the castle and don't have the time to work my way around your ego."

With a slam Snape exited and Harry sat back in his chair thoughtfully. Did he really need Snape's help to complete the weeks work? He slid his textbook over to him carefully and flicked through the chapters. Most of this he could probably practise by himself. It wouldn't be the first time he had driven away an instructor - Lucius Malfoy had recently given up on teaching him manners and Vladimir had almost lost the thread at him for refusing to spend another whole day doing exercise.

But Snape was different. Harry knew the Dark Lord would have words with him and by next week he'd be back in the classroom, swooping around the place and scoffing at everything Harry wrote. He was getting a tad bored with his routine however. It had been almost a year already and although it didn't feel like it he had learned a lot from his instructors. The Dark Lord still refused to teach him anything personally however and this annoyed him.

Why was he still not capable? He could do spells at a fourth grade level, could perform excellent gymnastic moves and he knew most of the basic Dark Arts books off by heart. Basically, Harry felt like he was doing excellently and he didn't understand why nobody else would recognize this.

Maybe, he thought with a darkening expression, it was because he was still 'too young'. He was thirteen, almost fourteen! How old did he have to be? He was sure most of the Death Eaters he met had started doing proper Dark magic at that sort of age!

"Another tutor walked out? Oh, the Dark Lord won't be pleased with you…"

Harry scowled and turned to the old man who had just entered. He wore brown robes and had a long messy beard not dissimilar to Dumbledore's. Harry had seen him around before but because of the man's unkempt appearance had just ignored him.

"What?" He snapped.

The little old man gave the floor a brief sweep with the battered looking brush he gripped and chuckled quietly. The noise reminded Harry of a broken car engine trying to start and this only irritated him further.

"I've heard all about your other disagreements," The man informed him eventually, "News travels fast around here."

"What of them? I should be allowed to choose what I want to learn." Harry said authoritatively.

"Not when you're here under the good and generous will of the Dark Lord." The man said looking down his nose at Harry as if this information was extremely valuable to him.

"I'm here because I want to be here." Harry argued uncertainly.

The little old man gave a chuckle again and brushed another flagstone.

"You're here because he believes you could be of use to him. The second you become too much bother he can get rid of you just like that,"

The man snapped his fingers feebly and gave another brush. Harry scowled at the noise.

"And although I shouldn't be telling you," The man said, leaning closer and dropping his voice to a hiss, "That second is very near if you continue in this manner."

Harry swept his books up from the table and moved closer to the door, his cheeks red. What did the man mean? He wasn't that bad surely! His only vice was knowing what he wanted and what was good for him when no-one else could see it.

"That's not true." He said dangerously, "I know what I'm doing and I know what I want. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Ahhh but there is when you go against the Dark Lord's wishes." The man said giving another little sweep.

The mental thread that controlled Harry's anger snapped and he grabbed the broom from the old man, throwing it across the room angrily.

"People can't tell me what to do! Not anymore! You can say what you want but I know I'm in the right." He yelled, marching towards the open door.

"Arrogance won't earn you respect. You've become more like your brother than you know."

Harry stopped short in the doorway upon hearing this. He couldn't find the words to answer and just stood there as the old man's gravely voice continued.

"To the world, you're already dead. If the Dark Lord gets rid of you, nobody will even know…"

Harry stormed down the corridor, his ears ringing with the old man's laughter.

The Dark Lord didn't want rid of him, did he? Was he arrogant? Was he like his brother? Harry shut himself up in his bedroom quickly and tossed his textbooks aside – walking to the mirror and gazing into it worriedly.

He had grown slightly, he supposed, but his frame was still relatively thin and his eyes still dominated his face. His hair had had several trims during the course of the year but it remained thick and sat on top of his head messily.

Harry rubbed his hand down his face carefully, noting the sureness in the way him mouth now sat – a sureness that he had indeed noticed on the face of his brother and his father. Perhaps he had become too arrogant for his own good.

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed silently and got lost in his thoughts. It came as a surprise when someone pushed the door open – the creaking of the wood bringing Harry back to reality.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Harry gazed at the vampire emotionlessly and shrugged – he hadn't even noticed the light go down. Vladimir, whose eyesight was obviously better in the dark than Harry's, surveyed him carefully.

"Something is bothering you." He observed, his accent familiar and strangely comforting to Harry's ears.

"Yeah…" Harry said distractedly.

Did Vladimir think he was arrogant? Maybe that was why there was still a distance between them even though they spent so much time together training. Perhaps Harry acted too much like him brother and that, Harry considered, would be enough to drive any sane person away.

"Am I arrogant?" He asked all of a sudden.

Vladimir stood extremely still but Harry could make out the frown of intrigue on his face in the dark.

"Yes." He replied just as abruptly.

Harry looked down in disappointment. Why had he not realised it before? He had become too arrogant for his own good. He knew he was clever and good at all the things he was given to do, but he should have stuck to his old methods of keeping his skills to himself. Instead he had stupidly let his family traits show through and had forced himself and his abilities into the faces of everyone he had met… what an idiot.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you."

Harry drew his head back up slowly and studied Vladimir's expression. The vampire was trying to remain impassive but Harry had been around the man for long enough to know when he was hiding something.

It wasn't good news. Why did Voldemort want to see him just now? He was never normally summoned on a weekday. Harry felt a nervous shiver go down his spine as he stood.

"Do you know what it's about?" Harry asked tiredly, keeping his eyes on Vladimir's face.

"He told me he wished to see you immediately. That was all." Vladimir replied, letting Harry pass.

The slow blink of the vampire's eyes allowed Harry some insight into the situation. Often, Vladimir's characteristics gave away more than they should have. The man _did_ know what was going on but he seemed uncertain about it, that was for sure. Harry rarely saw the vampire act in such a way and although the indications were slight, they were still there.

Harry walked towards the Dark Lord's meeting chambers slowly and Vladimir's footsteps did not follow.

"You're a liar." Harry said quietly and without anger.

There was no response but he knew Vladimir had heard him.

Oooooooooo

"I'm not pleased."

The way Voldemort spoke sent a coldness down Harry's spine. He didn't reply and stood up as straight as he could while the man circled him impatiently.

"Three of my most trusted followers have come to me these last two weeks telling me how displeased they are with you and your conduct. Three! You're supposed to be making this worthwhile for me and instead you're using my hospitality and time to act up like a fool!"

Harry opened his mouth to argue but Voldemort stopped him.

"The next words that come out of your mouth had better be an apology, boy, or I'll blast you into tiny pieces right now."

Harry closed his mouth defiantly. He wouldn't apologise for his actions. Perhaps they had been wrong, but the reasoning behind them wasn't unjustified. The Dark Lord had not been giving him _time_ as he had said, and the only hospitality he had been shown was the fact that he had a bed to sleep in at night. He was worked hard for everything he received and was not prepared to accept the Dark Lord's complaints on the matter. Voldemort had tested him to the extreme and every time he had finished his work on time, or had done the specified training as he had been ordered.

"I see. Well, that says it all, doesn't it." Voldemort said moving into Harry's personal space.

"I'm not going to apologise." Harry said flatly, holding the dark red gaze as best as he could.

"Someone who does not follow the rules is worth very little to me, I told you this when you first arrived. If you will not offer me more respect then I do not want you here."

Harry swallowed slowly. He knew what was expected of him – Voldemort wanted him to kneel before him. Sweating slightly, Harry thought through his next move. If he bowed he would be allowed back into the fray and given a second chance, but he would have shown the Dark Lord that he was prepared to follow his every order… like a Death Eater. He wouldn't do that. Harry knew he couldn't continue acting as a complete subordinate.

But Harry knew that if he didn't bow he would be killed. No doubt in the matter. Fingering his wand, he knew that retaliation wasn't an option. He was nowhere near the level of combat that would allow him to fight Voldemort. His only hope was that his injuries would allow him time to get to his supply of potions and repair himself before he expired completely.

Harry lifted his head slightly and spoke evenly.

"I am prepared to kill for you, I told you that before honestly and sincerely,"

Voldemort nodded slowly, understanding where this was leading.

"I want to work hard for you and I have the determination, but I will not be treated as if I am as hopeless as you all seem to think I am. I am sorry for acting so arrogantly these last few days but my actions were justified and I believe that if I were confronted with similar situations again, I would act exactly the same way."

Harry brushed his hand through his hair, getting rather nervous about what he was about to say but continuing with his speech in a quieter voice,

"I know I probably don't deserve a high level of respect… but I at deserve at least politeness. Your 'trusted followers' probably didn't tell you how rude they were being to me when I acted out,"

Harry met Voldemort's gaze solidly once more and took a deep breath,

"I won't kneel before you."

The words stretched out for what felt like an eternity and Harry wondered which breath would be his last as Voldemort took in his words.

"I see."

Perhaps Harry was imagining it but he was sure he picked up on some disappointment in Voldemort's voice.

The movement was so sudden Harry had no chance of dodging it. The sudden shock of the sharp pain almost sent him to his knees but he remained upright and staggered back a step, away from where Voldemort stood with the bloodied dagger still in his hands. It felt like his chest was on fire and he struggled to breathe properly.

Finding the wound at the side of his ribs Harry covered it quickly with his hand, struggling to operate his arms as his body grew weaker.

"You're sentiments were admirable, Harry," Voldemort said quietly, giving him a last look and walking to the door, "But your disrespect is a weakness in my eyes… and I can't abide weakness."

With that he left the room and Harry fell against the table, leaning on it heavily and leaving a bloody handprint on the fine wood. His ears were pounding and stars were beginning to show before his eyes but he focussed on the doorway and staggered towards it.

Forcing himself to stay upright and stumbling along the corridor he observed the walls swing wildly from side to side and the world had flickered back and forth between black and white and colour. Getting back to his room felt like it had taken so much longer than it actually had.

Tears running from his eyes and barely hanging on to consciousness Harry clumsily flipped open his potions chest and fumbled his way through the various jars and pots that he had gradually created during his time here.

He knew exactly what he was looking for but his vision was blurring and he was sinking closer and closer to the floor. He knew they were in here! His frustration gave him a second wind and he tossed all the jars out on to the floor – relief rushing through him as he spotted the salve he needed.

Removing his hands from the wound for a second Harry felt the flow of liquid down his robes and forced his body to work through the shock and horror of realisation at how much blood he was losing. He grabbed a handful of the dark green salve he had created to mend open wounds and hoped that this batch was strong enough to see him through.

Smothering the wound with the thick cream he had to look away as the sight of the cream mixing with the blood made him nauseous. Instead he focussed on the next bottle and pulled off the lid with his teeth before choking down as much as he could manage.

This potion should hopefully repair whatever internal damage had been done. He uncorked a further bottle and took a little sip of that too, hoping that mixing the two potions wouldn't cause any adverse effects. This one was better at repairing lung tissue and he occasionally had to use it when Vladimir aimed too hard a kick at his ribs.

Bracing himself on his hands and his knees and fighting back the shivering and the cold sweats Harry closed his eyes, wondering if the burning he felt at his side was a good thing or a bad thing.

After what felt like an eternity Harry opened his eyes and found that at some point he had sunk down to the floor. Pulling himself back upright slowly, he checked his side gingerly and realised that his body co-ordination had come back to him without his realising. The area where the knife had entered had stopped bleeding, and most of the salve had gone.

Cautiously touching his chest he found that the wound had repaired itself! And judging by the ease at which he could now breath, his other potions had done the trick too! Grabbing a bottle of blood-replenishing potion and drinking most of it, Harry sat on his knees and thanked whatever guardian angel was out there for him.

All of a sudden Harry was hit with a realisation of what had occurred and he felt a sudden anger towards the situation rush through his veins. Perhaps he had drank too much of the blood-replenishing potion, as he felt energised with a new lease of life and threw himself irrationally out of the door and up the corridor once more. He knew he was being ridiculous and the best thing he could do right now was hope to escape, but the only thing on his mind was confrontation.

The area was empty but Harry knew where to go. He followed the sound of voices to another of Voldemort's more favoured rooms and convinced himself very quickly that this was the right thing to do.

"…still think you should have reconsidered-"

Harry cut Vladimir off as he threw the door open angrily – it bounced off the doorframe with a bang, announcing his presence quite dramatically. He marched over to where Voldemort sat with his glass in his hand. Harry had never seen surprise etched on Voldemort's face quite like that minute and he vowed to remember it as long as he could… even if he only lived another two minutes.

"You stabbed me!! You fucking stabbed me!" Harry howled angrily, the raw energy surrounding him once more as he advanced on Voldemort, who had stood up rapidly.

He knew he must have looked ridiculous as his robes were covered in his own blood and his hair was mussed up with sweat but he didn't care. His necklace pulsed with energy and heated his chest. Drawing his anger around him along with how incredulous he felt about the whole situation he threw a spell at the Dark Lord without even caring what it was. The man moved quickly and instead the large chair he had been sitting in shattered into hundred of pieces.

Voldemort did not draw his wand and instead just watched Harry in surprise, as he destroyed several more objects in the room and was tackled to the ground by Vladimir.

"Get off me you bastard!" Harry yelled, kicking and punching irrationally at the larger man battling to keep him down, "You knew! You fucking told him about our argument and you knew he was going to kill me!!!"

Although he was the larger of the two, Vladimir still struggled to control Harry's violent form.

"Calm down!" Vladimir growled, pinning down an arm as the other one broke free.

"I won't! I hate you, you have no idea! I'm not letting- get the hell OFF me! Let me go-!"

Harry put his training to good use and all his power went behind each kick and punch as he had been taught. This made it harder for the vampire to keep him down and he knew it.

"I said calm down!" Vladimir ordered.

This sent Harry over the edge.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

With an explosion of energy out-with his control he threw himself upwards to his feet – a large amount of his energy leaving him at once in a violent flash of green that lit up the whole room. Vladimir was thrown back against the wall and hit it hard, sliding to the floor unconscious and unmoving. Harry didn't even notice this at first and instead sank to his knees, hit by a sudden exhaustion.

A wand was pressed against the back of his neck and he closed his eyes in acceptance. He was beyond caring anymore. The only person he had begun to trust had allowed him to walk to his death without even intervening or warning him. He didn't have enough energy to retaliate and was prepared for the consequences of bursting into the room as he had.

The thought of what he had just done seemed so ridiculous and he couldn't help but smile like a fool.

"It seems I have underestimated you again, Harry." Voldemort said quietly.

Harry didn't reply.

"How did you find the potions to mend your wound? I know for a fact that Severus did not give them to you. In fact I'm not even sure he has a potion for repairing wounds such as yours."

"I made them myself." Harry said gently, keeping his eyes closed.

"You did?… I see, well done. It appears they have worked quite well. But what did you hope to achieve by bursting in here and destroying my favourite chair?"

"I don't know." Harry said honestly, "I let my emotions control my actions."

"That is not always wise."

"I know."

A silence lay between them both for several seconds. Vladimir did not move.

"Your emotions were obviously strong. What did you feel?" Voldemort asked sounding genuinely interested.

"I don't know…" Harry considered, "Betrayed. Angry. Hurt."

He stopped and thought about his feelings, unafraid of letting Voldemort know. He felt strangely calm throughout.

"You were supposed to help me, but you were never there." Harry said, realising how young he felt as he said this.

The wand slowly left Harry's neck and Voldemort appeared down beside him. Instead of the dangerous red eyes, Harry met with the cold blue gaze of Tom Riddle.

"You stabbed me." Harry said quietly, the high emotions of the last half hour overtaking him as a tear ran down his face.

He had almost died. And he hadn't even seen his fourteenth birthday yet. Harry supposed he had always had to look out for himself, but the fact that no-one at all had been there to help him or had even cared at all, had secretly shaken him to the core. He was used to being alone, but that didn't mean he always had to like it.

He expected to be laughed at or told to leave but the last thing he expected was a warm hand wiping the tear from his face gently.

"You must understand that I can't have rebels among my followers, Harry, and you are one of the few people I know who would happily confront my decisions if you didn't like them. In many ways this is good, but I can't let others think that they can do this too. I would have a rebellion on my hands."

Harry nodded slowly, too tired to care.

"Are you going to get rid of me?" Harry asked, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Perhaps… I could give you another chance."

Tom Riddle himself seemed unsure as he spoke, but Harry brought his sad gaze back upwards hopefully.

"But only if we find a compromise," Tom added sternly, "You must agree to bow before me in the presence of my Death Eaters."

Harry considered this, enjoying the feeling of Tom Riddle's hand as it ran through his hair. His father had never brushed a hand through it... he was lucky if his father even spoke to him most days.

"I'll do that. But only if you agree to spend more time teaching me." Harry said finally.

"I don't like how you seem to be taking control of this conversation …" Tom mused, "But judging by you actions a minute ago, you may have just reached an acceptable level for me to guide. Your power is in no doubt, it is merely your control."

Harry glanced over to where Vladimir still lay and felt a tinge of guilt.

"What exactly did I do?" He asked worriedly.

"You sent the killing curse at him." Tom chuckled, "It would appear you were true to your word – you are prepared to kill people who get in your way."

"Is he dead?" Harry asked, the worry once more evident in his voice.

Tom Riddle's hand rested comfortingly on Harry's neck as he replied. Harry studied the movement more than he probably should have done and it seemed as if the Dark Lord was drawing a certain amount of peacefulness from the movement too.

"No, if he had been a normal man then certainly, you would have killed him. But he is a vampire, Harry, and you should know that he is immune to the killing curse."

"He doesn't look very immune at the moment…" Harry observed, green eyes searching for movement.

"Well, that was quite a knock on the head you gave him." Riddle replied just as smoothly, eyes glancing over at the comatose vampire.

"I feel… strange." Harry admitted after a few moments silence, moving his fingers carefully.

"Good…" Riddle replied with a mysterious smile, "That is to be expected after performing your first true dark spell."

Harry stretched his shoulders out too. It was a bizarre feeling. Similar to a pain numbing potion but enough to make him feel the tiniest bit disorientated. There was a cool rushing in his bloodstream that couldn't still be blamed on the blood replenishing potion. It had to be something else.

It felt good.

"I'm glad we sorted this out." Riddle said matter-of-factly as he stood up and made for the door.

Harry gave a small nod and his brighter than normal eyes returned to Vladimir who had just let out a small moan.

"Make sure your bags are packed and you're ready to travel at seven thirty sharp tomorrow."

"What?" Harry asked suddenly.

"You heard me. Make sure he gets the message too." Riddle said with a nod towards Vladimir.

Did Harry really want to be around when the vampire woke up? Not really. Not really at all.

"Him?…" Harry repeated worriedly.

"Indeed, him."

When Harry turned back to the doorway, Tom Riddle had disappeared and Voldemort stood once more in his place. With a small smirk to himself, the Dark Lord swept from the room leaving Harry and his blood soaked shirt with the rapidly awakening vampire.

"Shit…" Harry muttered to himself.

The room was once more in pieces and he was especially glad that the Dark Lord had agreed to teach now him because if he carried on losing control like this then who knew what would happen?

Deciding he'd be better off leaving a note next to Vladimir for when he awoke, Harry pulled himself to his feet. In the split second it took for him to realise that the previously unconscious vampire had disappeared from his space, he had time to half whirl around in panic before a large arm clamped around his neck, cutting off his airway temporarily.

"I don't like to bleed." Vladimir informed Harry calmly, his dangerously cold voice making Harry struggle against the stranglehold all the faster.

"I – I didn't, I-" Harry struggled to speak.

He coughed and gasped in what little air he could gather, pulling against the strong arm that did not budge.

"I don't care what the Dark Lord says, I'm going to watch you suffocate right here, right now." Vladimir whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry felt his vision slipping as he fought to free himself. The stars from earlier were back and his chest was burning from the lack of air.

"You destroyed his things yet are still alive… I do not understand that man sometimes…" Vladimir mused, as if this were a casual conversation.

Harry gasped painfully, unable to gather any further air and panicked, kicking out with his legs which were almost raised completely off the ground.

"And I do not understand you either. I had almost certainly decided that I didn't like you, but after our conversation earlier I was reconsidering… I thought that perhaps I had misjudged you…"

The world had begun to tilt away from under his control and Vladimir's voice was stretching further and further away. Harry gave a last half-hearted attempt at freeing himself before his world started getting gradually darker at the edges.

And then he was released and air rushed back into his lungs at the same speed at which the floor rushed up to his face. Landing in an undignified heap and gasping for air, Harry's body accepted all the oxygen it could find and he lay there panting for several moments. His poor body had had it all tonight.

"Much to my dismay I find myself growing to enjoy your presense… I hope this is just a passing phase." Vladimir said almost to himself, stepping over Harry and not sparing him a second glance as he strode from the room, one hand rubbing the back of his bloodied head carefully.

What good news, Harry thought wryly, checking to see if his neck had been permanently damaged by the vampire's strong grip. What the hell did he do to people he didn't like? And Vladimir could be late for the half seven deadline for all he cared… in fact, maybe it would be better if the vampire missed the trip completely.

As he limped from the room Harry felt a tinge of happiness at the way the night had turned out. He was going somewhere new… and the Dark Lord had agreed to help him train! And all it had taken was a little bit of violence. No pain, no gain.

Ooooooooooooooo

_To answer a few questions,_

_I think I've decided to make this a non-slash piece. The story has been around for long enough for there to be readers who would probably be uncomfortable with it for me to suddenly throw in a slash aspect and I don't feel it would be particularly necessary to the story. Sorry to the slash fans…I like the idea of Harry being gay here just because I could work in more angst but again his sexuality wouldn't really make a difference storyline-wise. I may slip in a few suggestions of his preference but nothing remotely graphic or important._

_The technicalities of Voldemort's history I don't plan on getting into too deeply. The Godric's Hollow attack where Harry was marked etc etc I haven't quite decided whether to go into detail here or not, but I like to let the readers make of it what they will. There are however, some parts that I am planning on explaining at a later stage so hang on in there! ;)_

_Those were the main issues guys but most things I hope to explain. I hope the story is still keeping pace and you're still enjoying it. I'm thinking a slight age jump is in order for the next chapter to speed things up a bit._

_Again, the reviews are ace guys, thanks for them all. I do like reading them and will hopefully be back with the next chapter soon!! x_


End file.
